Body Wave
by passionately-curious
Summary: My father would be turning over in his grave if he knew I was on my way to Victor's Village for a job interview. Although, if it weren't for my father being in the grave, he'd still be working, my mother would still be functioning, and my sister and I wouldn't have lived for years on the edge of complete starvation. As it is, he's gone, my mother's gone, and it's all up to me.
1. The Spark

My father would be turning over in his grave if he knew his eldest daughter was on her way to _Victor's Village_ for a job interview. Although, if it weren't for my father being in the grave, he'd still be working, my mother would still be functioning, and my sister and I wouldn't have lived for years on the edge of complete starvation. As it is, he's gone, my mother's gone, and it's up to me to keep my little sister fed and clothed. A responsibility that has become more and more difficult in our tiny district. The money I made as the waitress/bartender/janitor at the only bar in town wasn't enough for a three-person household.

At least, that's what I told myself as I pushed open the heavy door of the infamous gentleman's club three districts over. That and I was interviewing for the bartender position and not the dancer one, which should help my deceased father's state of mind. If it was just my deceased father's state of mind, I would have considered the other job – they make more money and it's well known that Haymitch Abernathy takes care of his girls – but I'm still responsible for my sister. My baby sister who is about to start her senior year of high school and doesn't need any more rumors surrounding her. I've protected her as best as possible from the snide comments from fellow students from some of the wealthier districts whose school district we share, but if word ever got around that Primrose Everdeen's sister was stripping for money...that's just not something I'm willing to subject her to.

And then there's my mother to consider, I suppose. She's finally starting to mentally stabilize. She can now look at me without seeing the ghost of my father. We can have a civilized conversation over meager dinners. She's old-fashioned enough to hate the idea of her daughter bartending, which I never paid attention to because it was that bartending job that brought home money. Anything more than that might completely dissolve our fragile relationship. Like it or not, these women are the only people I have left in the world.

I wasn't sure what to expect when I got inside the club - everything I knew about strip clubs came from the stories I heard from adults and the images I conjured up on my own head. Needless to say, the inside of _Victor's Village_ looked nothing like I thought it would. There were no neon lights or zebra print couches. It didn't smell like stale smoke or booze or...worse. The walls were a light brown with licks of red like flames, and the furniture was made of deep mahogany. Gold carpeting covered the floor, accented by the low lightening along the walls. It's the richest looking building I've ever been in and I found myself running my fingers over the expensive woodwork at the edge of the expansive bar. The thought that a place like this existed so close to starving children and abject poverty made me sick to my stomach, but I couldn't allow myself to dwell on the feeling for too long.

The girl who greeted me wasn't what I expected either. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a loose bun, her face free of makeup, and she was simply dressed in jeans and a _Victor's Village_ blank tank top. "Hi," she said with an easy smile. "You must be the applicant. Haymitch will be up in a second. Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?" She slipped behind the bar and began pulling bottles off the shelves and lining them up on the front of the bar.

"Uh," my mouth went dry. The bottom of her tank top rose up an extensive back brace. "Um. No, no I don't need anything to drink..."

The girl chuckled. As I looked up, she was looking back at me, clearly having caught me staring. "Pulled tendons. I've been put on bar duty until I heal up properly. Haymitch insisted."

"Because Haymitch doesn't want his girls to be injured for life. Get back to work, Annie."

I snapped my head back to see a paunchy, middle-aged man stagger down the stairs; I assumed him to be the Haymitch the girl was just talking about. He seemed old enough to own the bar, though his greying hair and deep set wrinkles may only be exacerbating his age. His eyes were the same color as mine; everything about him gave me the impression he could have been raised in the poor part of town as well. Well, everything except the building I was standing in.

"You the Everdeen girl?" he asked, his voice gravely and direct.

I nodded. "Katniss. Um, Katniss Everdeen. For the bar-"

"Bartending. Yeah yeah. I remember. Your application was impressive. Ol' Sae seemed to think you were throwing your life away by coming here but that's what she said about me." He began to laugh, albeit a little too hard because he started coughing instead.

More and more, this day has become not at all like I expected. How could this be the man who runs one of the most prestigious gentleman's club in the country? Nothing, from the way he looked or acted felt in place with the surroundings. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, waiting for him to calm down enough to continue.

"I'll put you on tonight's shift. It should be pretty slow and Annie will be here to help you out. You'll need to change, obviously. You may be a bartender here but we have a reputation to uphold."

"Wh-wh-wait. What?" I asked, staring at him in total disbelief. "Tonight? I thought this was just the interview."

Haymitch stared at me, his tongue tracing the edge of his teeth. "Things move pretty fast here and I need a bartender now. If you're not up for it, I've got another girl coming in soon. I'm sure she won't be so afraid of the challenge."

I felt my eyes widen for a beat before I narrowed them at him. Afraid? Of a challenge? Me? "What should I wear?"

He smirked and motioned for me to follow him to a back room. He sat at a desk and pulled a novel's worth of paperwork out of a drawer. "We've got some rules here, Kid. Mostly for your safety, but some for mine and the club's. Beyond that, we need to do some pretty typical background checks, health checks, credit reports, all that crap that just prove you're not going to rob me blind or some shit like that. I'm not too worried about you but it's part of the routine."

I nodded, skimming through all the forms he put in front of me. It made me wonder what happened to Haymitch that required such an extensive check on every single employee. Sure, this was a premier club, but the multiple checks seemed slightly over the top.

"And then we have your bank information, tax forms, insurance forms, insurance liabilities, non-disclosure and confidentiality forms for both you and the other employees, and the rules." I quickly scanned over the pages and pages of rules. Most seemed pretty generic to almost any workplace and a few were specific to this type of environment.

_Employees are not to engage in external fraternization with customers. For your safety and the protection of Victor's Village, any employee caught spending time with customers outside of work or performing non-work related activities with customers will be placed on probation. If a second offense occurs, employee will be immediately terminated. Under no circumstances can the former employee be rehired in this situation._

The last rule, right at the bottom of the page caught my eye.

_Under no circumstances are employees to open __any_ _envelopes or packages from unknown senders. If at any time an employee receives unsolicited mail at their private residence, they are to immediately turn it over to Haymitch Abernathy._

That was it, no additional explanation. What a strangely specific rule, more so than the relationship one. "What's with the rule on mail?"

He squinted at me for a moment then leaned back in his chair. "There are some people in this...community...who aren't big fans of what we do here. Usually we get harmless letters but it's not worth taking the risk that it could be something more. Now, here is a suggested workout and diet plan." He looked up at me and snickered. "Although I doubt it'll be a problem of you not maintaining a particular body shape."

I scowled at him, even if he had a point. I wasn't only thin because my family was poor. Both of my parents were naturally small and I spent most of my non-working hours trekking through the woods to help my family. It had been so long since I had excessive food that it would likely take months of gorging myself before any of it started showing. But it wasn't really like I wanted to be reminded of that. Especially by my new employer.

"As for your uniform," Haymitch stood from his desk and pulled a large box off a shelf. "You're a small, yeah? Maybe even an extra small." He started rummaging around, digging almost entirely to the bottom before he tossed a pair of jean shorts and a black tank top at me. "You can borrow those for the night, until you get some clothes of your own. Bathroom's down the hall. Go change and start with Annie."

I held the shorts up and my heart sank. There was barely enough denim fabric to consider them proper shorts, even for my tiny frame. But I did as I was told and shuffled out of the office as quickly as possible to find the bathroom. I slid out of my clothes and into my new uniform, staring at myself in the full length mirror. I tugged down the hem of the tank top, hoping it would help provide a little bit of modesty, but I knew it was a false hope. Nothing could cover up the fact that my shorts barely covered my most intimate places and if I bent over, anyone who could would be able to see my underwear. I'm relieved that I at least took the time to shave my legs a few days ago and the hair hasn't started growing back yet. I don't know what Haymitch would have done if I hadn't. I get the feeling he cares more about my body hair than I do at this point, and since he makes the decisions, his feelings about it mattered the most.

Annie is still cleaning behind the bar when I come out. She smiles brightly at me and hops off the step ladder she had been standing on. "Hey, Katniss, right?"

I nodded, smiling softly back at her. "Yeah. And you're Annie? Um...Haymitch sent me here for you to train me?"

Annie laughed. "Of course he did. Have you tended bar before?" I nodded again, drawing another smile from her. "Then you'll be fine. Most of the people who come in here aren't looking for fruity cocktails. They want beer, whiskey, rum, that sort of thing. So long as you can multitask and hold a lot of orders in your head, you'll be fine. Things will get hectic and the men are complete assholes sometimes but we look out for each other."

"So...what do we do now?" I asked, given that the job sounds simple enough.

"We continue to clean and stock. It'll get done quicker now that I have a second set of hands."

As we took care of the bar area, I noticed more women come strolling in, greeting Annie and giving me dirty looks. "Who are they?" I asked her.

"The dancers. They use slow nights to work on new moves and routines," she answered, as watching them as they began to warm up. "You know we have the main stage," she pointed to it, "and then we also have five or six side stages. And then, of course, the private booths along the edges."

I gulped. "Private booths?" I knew this was a gentleman's club and that the dancers did end up unveiling most of their bodies in the process but I never knew about...private booths. It just screamed out prostitution and if that was the kind of establishment this was then I wanted no part of it. I would have no problem marching back into Haymitch's office and quitting. I didn't care that I had only been hired for a few hours.

Annie gently touched my shoulder. "It's not that kind of private booth. I mean, it never was for me. Or 99% of the other girls. Sure, there are always a few looking to make a few extra dollars but it's rare and we usually nip it in the bud before it gets out of hand."

"Then what do you do in there?"

"Lap dances," she answered. "Sometimes just talk. It's amazing how often these men just want a little companionship. Naked companionship, but not necessarily sexual companionship. We aim to please here at _Victor's Village_ with very few exceptions."

I can't take my eyes off the soft gold curtains that line the outside of the private booths. Companionship? Someday, I figure there will be little about this place that doesn't surprise me, if I stay that long. I may not know what I want to be when I grow up, but I'm fairly certain it isn't a bartender. I have no ambition to stay here the rest of my life, only until I have enough money saved up for Prim's college tuition.

* * *

><p>"<span>That<span> was a slow night?" I asked, wiping my face with my forearm, which was sticky from where a customer sloshed his drink on me.

Annie giggled from the register. "Believe me, after a few weekend shifts and you'll start looking forward to nights like this."

I shook my head and sorted through the tip bucket the way Annie showed me. Bartenders got 80% of the tips and security got the other 20% and Annie gave me the responsibility of calculating everyone's percentages. It was a relaxing job after the whirlwind day, and night, I had just lived through. Right before the doors unlocked, Annie ambushed me - cutting a deeper V in my tank top to show more skin. I had tried to argue that my breasts weren't big enough to make a difference and she said it wasn't just breasts these men were interested in. "It's the illusion."

Illusions seemed to be what _Victor's Village_ prided themselves on. As busy as Annie and I were at the bar, I still found myself entranced by the dancers throughout the club. They moved with such grace and sensuality; not as women taking their clothes off for money, but as fantastical creatures from another world. It reminded me of when I was younger and in my youthful dance recitals. I remember getting lost in the world being created. I wasn't Katniss Everdeen, I was a bird, or greek muse, or whatever creature I was pretending to be. But the memories tightened my chest in a way that forced me to look away. But never for long.

I looked back down at the neatly organized piles of money I had been counting and took the bundles over to Annie, who double checked it and doled out my share. "Good night tonight, huh?"

I looked down at the stack of bills in my hand, guessing there was over $300 there. "This is...this is crazy," I admitted with a smile.

"Never made that much money in one night, have you?"

I shook my head. No. No, I had never physically held this much cash at any point in my life. It felt ridiculous to be so excited by a relatively small amount of money, but to her credit, Annie didn't say anything. She simply turned back to the register and began to hum a tune I didn't recognize. $300. In one night. I could buy real groceries for my family with this, like real bread and fresh fruits and vegetables, and still put most of it in savings.

The bus ride back to my home district was terrifically long and short at the same time. I was wrapped up in my jacket, but my legs were still dreadfully exposed to the few other bus riders. But all I could think about was the wad of money in my pocket, bulging uncomfortably against the denim fabric. My father may be rolling over in his grave, but for once, I couldn't care less what he may have thought. It was the first night I felt fully capable of caring for the family he inadvertently left behind.

My mother hardly spoke to me when I would spend time at home. I'm used to it by now, and I can't remember the last time we had an actual conversation. She doesn't know where I work now but I'm not sure she knew where I used to work. Every few days, she would have moments of lucidity; she'd be up in the morning cooking breakfast or attempting to restock her medicine cabinets for when she used to make house calls. Prim loved those days because to her, they meant our mother was almost back to herself. Primrose was always the optimist of our family.

As much as I wished my mother was back to herself, I had to admit that there were definite upsides to not having her be involved in my life. If nothing else, it gave me the freedom to do whatever I wanted when I was at home. And ever since my first night at _Victor's Village_, most of my time had been spent thinking about the girls.

My childhood friend, Madge, had a full dance studio in her house. She took ballet and always tried to teach me since my family couldn't afford classes even when my father was alive. She was an amazing dancer, and I remember thinking I'd never be as good as her. She told me the names of things, but I could never remember them. Plié, relevés, first position, fourth position - it didn't make any sense to me, so I made up my own based on what she looked like while doing them. I begged my father for a studio of my own so I could practice when Madge couldn't have company over. He surprised me one day by installing a makeshift barre in the basement next to his work station. Down in the basement, I would bounce around to the music in my head, creating my own music to dance to, putting on little shows for my parents and baby sister. My father said I had his natural grace.

After he died, the makeshift dance studio was abandoned completely. I couldn't go down there without being flooded by memories of him. Prim never questioned me about it and my mother would often sit and stare at the door that led to it, waiting for my father to emerge from the workroom. But I knew, that after so many years of avoidance, I would need to venture back down. There was no way I could afford enough clothes to work, but I could potentially pull an Annie and create something acceptable out of my current wardrobe. To do that, I would need more than just the simple needle and thread I kept in my dresser. I would need my mother's outdated sewing machine that was still stored in the basement. The dust in the forgotten room was thick and stifling as I made my way down, and everything smelled like coal and mold and the tanning equipment my father used when he stretched animal skins. It's how the house used to smell all the time, and I closed my eyes to let it all wash over me again. I felt the tears prick at my eyes and I forced them open. It didn't take long to find the wall mirrors, still caked with an always present layer of coal dust, and the barre running across the wall. I ran my fingers along it, sending the dust flying around. I gripped it with both hands and stared at myself in the mirror.

I thought about Madge, about how graceful she looked when she would stretch her legs and jeté around the room in perfect time to whatever music was playing at the time. I thought about the girls at the club who flowed around the pole and slinked along the stage. I wondered how similar they were, the technical ballet of my past and the sensual movements of my present. I don't know how long I stayed, gripping the barre, staring at my reflection, thinking about things. It wasn't until I heard the front door close and Prim's surprisingly heavy footstep that I realized I had zoned out and had been crying. I wiped my eyes, I and took a few deep breaths. I found the sewing machine and a few boxes of supplies and lugged them all upstairs. "Prim?" I called out. "Can you give me a hand, please?"

Prim came bouncing over, a slight flush on her face. "Katniss! What...why do you have-"

"Just, grab the box on top first?" I struggled, leaning against the wall in attempts to prevent anything from falling or spilling. "Come on, we're taking these up to our room."

Prim shrugged and followed me up to our shared bedroom. "Whatcha sewing?" She asked, plopping down on my bed, crossing her legs.

"Stuff for work." I answered, dumping out the contents of the boxes. I moved over to my dresser and started tossing all my clothes onto the floor next to the supplies.

"Did Sae change the uniform?"

I glanced over at her, staring all too innocently at me. "What? Uh, no. Well, no, it's not for Sae's. It's a different job. Just, come here, Duck. Help me find some stuff I can fix."

"Fix?" She hopped off the bed and knelt next to me. "Fix how?"

I sighed. It's not like I can actually tell her why I need to tear up my old clothes and basically cut the crotches out of my precious few shorts, but it's clear she's not going to just do what I ask her to anymore. Damn teenagers. And damn her. I don't know when she got so smart and was able to read me. "It's...Madge got me a job as a bartender at a club over in Two," I lied. It wasn't a complete lie. I was a bartender and it was at a club in a different district. And it was enough for Prim because her eyes lit up and she let out a squeal I had never heard from her before.

"So we need to make you presentable?" She asked, holding up my old camp t-shirts. "Well. Um...we'll try at least," she added with a wink.

I shoved her with my shoulder, causing us both to laugh. I felt slightly guilty with the white lie I told her, but when I thought back to the remaining cash hidden under my mattress, I realized it was worth it. I would make sure my teenage sister would get out of this two-bit district and live her dream. "Okay," I say with a reluctant sigh. "Where should I start?"

* * *

><p>I fiddled with the tie on the side of my DIY t-shirt top as I stepped off the bus to head to work the next Friday night. Haymitch made sure I knew to come in four hours before we opened to help clean and get prepped for the weekend. It would be the first time I officially met the entire staff and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. Haymitch hadn't hired anyone knew in a while, so I knew the wolves would be hungry for fresh meat. They couldn't all be as nice as Annie. But I also knew that I couldn't let them see my fear if I wanted to earn their respect and make it through the night. I had never let people bully me out of something before and I wasn't about to start now.<p>

The club was empty when I pulled open the doors, save for Annie behind the bar and Haymitch muttering something to a tall, hulking man in jeans and a tight black shirt. Annie saw me first and made a sign to Haymitch. I took a deep breath as the two men made their way over to me.

"Katniss, this is Brutus, head of security. Been here...what...25 years now?" Haymitch turned to the hulking man, Brutus, apparently, who silently nodded. "Right. So he knows the ins and outs. If you have any problems with a customer, Brutus is who you find. He'll also make sure you'll have someone to walk you to your car at the end of the night. Weekend shifts here are nothing like they are at Sae's, and you'll find that the guys here, wealthy as they are, are still your average drunk guys at the end of the night."

"Hi," I breathed out, my mind lost in a spiral of what in the world could happen that would require me to have an escort out to my car at the end of the night.

Brutus chuckled. "Scared, Girl?"

I glowered. "No," I shot back, lying my ass off. "I can hold my own pretty good."

Haymitch shot Brutus an _I told you so_ look and they both laughed. "She's fiery," Haymitch warned.

"She'll fit right in then."

* * *

><p>"Katniss!" I heard Annie call out over the music and crowd at the bar. "Double up those bombs. And I still need two Jacks."<p>

I let out a sigh. Fucking frat boys had been ordering Jaeger bombs faster than we could clean up after them. Annie wasn't kidding when she said it would be batshit crazy tonight. Two bachelors parties and a fraternity initiation turned what was typically crazy busy into a total fucking zoo. My shirt was soaked in sweat and booze and I was fairly certain I'd been bought more shots in one night than in a year at Sae's. It's a good thing all bartenders know the tricks - water instead of vodka, sleight of hand, and beer bottle chaser - because otherwise I'd be a wasted mess right now.

I lined the shot glasses on the bar and filled them in front of the frat boys. Supposedly it was to show that we weren't dicking them on alcohol but it also gave us an extra set of eyes on the other customers. And the customers another chance to stare at us.

"90!" I called to the frat leader. He sat a wad of bills on the counter in exchange for the drinks.

"For you, Braids."

I rolled my eyes and counted through the money. I wasn't sure who started the nickname but it wasn't the worst I had gotten. "Mother fuckers have jipped us all night," I mumbled to Annie, holding up the $10 tip.

"That's why Haymitch hates college boys and hardly ever lets them in."

"What's the deal with tonight then?"

Annie shook her head. "One must be a son of someone important. He still put up a fight."

I stuffed the cash into the tip container under the bar and went back to work. The dancers were about to come back from the main stage break, which meant a minor break for us. Once the first girl reappeared on the stage, a pinched face girl with dark hair and fake tits, I let out a sigh of relief. We still had a crowd of people at the bar but at least we could breath.

"What can I get you?" I asked one of the bouncers who stepped to the side of the bar.

"Water for me. But the girls backstage are gonna want stuff. You got their drinks, Braids?"

"I...didn't see an order come in for them..."

"You wouldn't have," he said. "They always get the same things."

"Then what do they want?"

He scoffed. "I'm just the messenger. You're the bartender."

I shoved a bottle of water at his chest and walked away. As I was pulling bottles of domestics, I finally got Annie's attention to ask about the girls.

"Fuck. Gloss knows he's supposed to get us the order. He thinks because you're new he can be lazy. Where's he at?"

I pointed to the one I assumed was Gloss (there were too many muscular blonde security men in this place), who was helping a far too inebriated customer to the door.

"Fuck," Annie swore again. "You're quicker than I am. Run backstage, find out what they want and come back. I can handle the bar by myself for a few minutes."

I weaved my way through the crowd to the hallway that I was pretty sure would lead to the dressing room. Haymitch gave me a tour earlier that night but it was quick and I was too busy trying to meet and remember who was who to get my mental map set completely. Fortunately, it didn't take me long to find the right room, confirmed when I opened the door and got an eyeful of tits and thongs.

"Can we help you?" A blonde spit out at me from near the mirror. "Because we usually charge for this kind of ogling." I closed my eyes, trying to remember which dancer this one was...Cashmere? Lyme? Fuck there were too many blondes in this place.

"I, uh, I'm...I need your bar order…"

Cashmere or Lyme or whoever she was, raised her eyebrows. "Gloss already got them. Having a rough first day?" She, and a few others around her started laughing, as if she were some sort of comedian.

I huffed. "Clearly Gloss lost the order. So if you want something, you'll have to tell me now or walk your asses out to the bar and get it yourself." She stared me down, a smirk on her lips, but I refused to back away. I needed to assert myself, to show that I wasn't someone they could walk all over. I could cry later, if that's what it came to, but not in front of them. "Nothing?" I challenged.

A girl I vaguely recognized from my first shift, with short, spiky hair laughed at the others. "Well look at the nads on this one. Cash'll have something fruity and weak. Alcohol and heels aren't a good combination for her."

"Fuck you, Johanna."

The one with spiky hair, Johanna, apparently, winked. "Thanks Doll, but Mama doesn't swing that way. Unless you've been tucking and taping on us. And in that case, maybe we should tell your sugar daddy so he knows what he's getting himself into. Unless…" she gave an exaggerated gasp, "does Daddy like a little pegging action?"

Before I knew what was happening, a bottle of water was being thrown across the room, splashing every one and thing near Johanna got soaking wet. Just as quickly, Johanna was on her feet, rushing toward the blonde. Without thinking, I jumped toward her, wrapping my arms around her and holding her back. She was flailing her limbs and screaming words I had never even heard and it took every ounce of strength to keep her in place. I don't know who called security, but I was glad to see a tall, copper-haired guy in the same jeans and black t-shirt as the others easily take her from my arms, plop her over his shoulder, and carry her out of the room, still yelling.

I let out a slow breath. "Anything else?" I quickly took the rest of the orders and hurried back toward the bar. Holy. Shitballs. I started fixing the drinks, setting them on the tray under a napkin with their names on them for whoever would be taking them back. Because I sure as hell wasn't going to deal with those girls again. I was thankful when the blonde bouncer that wasn't Gloss took the tray. His voice was low when he thanked me and I knew I blushed like a school girl. Annie just gave me a look when I turned back around. For the rest of the night, I kept my head down, but whenever I glanced out across the room, I could feel his bright blue eyes on me and a shudder ran through my body.

I was relieved to hear Brutus' booming voice announce last call; I stopped trying to keep track of what time it was about an hour into my shift. My entire body ached, I had sweated off all the makeup Annie insisted I wore, and my hair was a wild mess. After attempting to break up my first catfight, the night seemed to fly by in a haze. I couldn't tell you who was dancing or what was playing; I was on body autopilot filling drink orders until I felt like I was about to collapse.

All five security guards - Brutus, another older guy, the one who carried Johanna, and both blondes - began herding customers out and I finally let myself rest against the bar. "Holy fuck," I groaned. On my left, Annie was leaning against the wall, looking just as exhausted as I was.

"And we get to do it all again tomorrow," she joked, wrinkling her face.

I groaned again and rested my head on my sweaty arms. "It's going to be a long bus ride."

"You're going home?" She asked, pushing herself off the wall and stretching her back.

I shrugged. "I have to. Where else am I supposed to go?"

"Stay at my place," she offered. "We usually have an unwind on Fridays anyway."

I pushed off the bar and started cleaning up as the lights came on. "Yeah? I didn't get the impression people liked each other much here."

One of the bouncers, the one with copper hair who looked more like a model than a bouncer, laughed, having overheard my comment. "Because of the fight? Nah, that's just a typical night for those two. I don't think Jo and Cash have ever gotten along."

"They're both competitors," Annie agreed. She leaned over the bar to kiss him. "Thanks, Finn, for breaking it up. I saw you carry Jo out back."

Finn shrugged. "Braids kept her contained for a while. I just did the cleanup."

Annie looked at me in surprise and I felt the heat rush through my face. "Well, what do you know," she mused, a smirk on her lips. "I told Katniss," she emphasized my name, "she could stay at my place tonight."

Finn looked over at me. "You don't have an apartment of your own in the city yet?"

I shook my head. Was I supposed to? It was only my second day of work and who knew if I would even survive the weekend. Or make enough money to pay for a place of my own. The thought ran through my head for a second to ask about rooming with someone, but I knew the only person I could really stand to live with was my sister. Getting a place felt so permanent, even if it was just an apartment.

"That's okay. I think Ena and Peeta both slept in their cars for the few month or so. Good thing Haymitch gave us all a gym membership or I don't know where they'd shower," Finn joked. "So, your place, tonight, Annie?"

She nodded. "Yep. I figured we'd all be here for a while so if you want to let people know. We'll meet up whenever Katniss and I finish." They both leaned across the bar again to give each other another quick kiss before Finn headed off with the rest of the security team.

I think Annie appreciated having another set of hands who actually knew how to run a bar. Before me, the extra bartender was on a rotation between dancers on their off nights and security guys who could be relieved for a few hours at a time. I didn't think to ask who was before Annie, since this clearly wasn't her first choice of a position at the club, but at least with two competent bartenders, the work was done more quickly than usual.

With the lights lit, the entire building felt entirely different. The dancers made quick work of cleaning the stages, poles, and backrooms. The boys did a floor check and did an overall cleaning. Everyone, it seemed, pitched in to make sure the place was kept in high condition, even though I knew Haymitch had a professional cleaning crew come in every night. As they cleaned, I noticed how relaxed they all seemed, how normal. The girls were dressed similarly as Annie and I - shorts and t-shirts or tank tops, with their hair pulled back and faces cleared. Though they were silent, there was no tension between them, even Johanna and Cashmere who I figured would still be throwing barbs at one another.

"Do you want your tips now or tomorrow?" Annie asked, as she was counting out the register. "Sometimes it's easier to just wait and only have to keep track of one wad of cash. Especially until you get a bank account here that you can quickly deposit it into. There's nothing safe about walking around with a g in your pocket."

I felt my jaw physically drop. A g? A grand. $1000 in tips. I should have known, I worked behind the bar and saw the cash flow, but somehow the idea of taking home $1000 after one night, one grueling, exhausting night, seemed so ridiculous. "Um. Ye-Yeah. No I can totally...totally wait." I exhaled and laughed slightly, still completely surprised.

"It gets easier," Annie said softly, "having that much money." The comment easily could have been judgmental. Or condescending. But there was a look in her eye that told me she knew. She knew what it was like to have little to nothing and that she knew how much that money meant. I didn't know much about my fellow bartender's background but it felt like maybe she had been where I was. Poor, hungry, needing to take care of things because no one else had. "But, I am going to take $50 out of both of our pockets to pay for the liquor tonight." She pulled $100 out of the tip jar and added it to the night till. "If you have the after hours, you provide the liquor," she explained. "Everyone else brings food and chasers and...other things. What's your poison?"

I opted for rum and Annie chose vodka, three bottles each. "Why do we need so much?" I asked.

She grinned. "You noticed that none of us really drank on the job, right? Even the stuff you made for the girls were pretty low key - just enough to get them feeling good but not enough to make any impact on their balance."

I nodded. The strongest drink I made for an employee was a Malibu and pineapple, and the only people who get drunk off those are 18 year olds. Everyone else got waters or juices.

Annie continued, "Since we don't have to be back at work until 8 tomorrow night, we tend to let loose. And let me tell you, despite how small they may seem - some of the women here can drink the guys under the table."

She made a note of what we were taking and slipped it into the register. "That way we remember for inventory," she explained. "Haymitch doesn't care what we take as long as we pay for it and keep track. It's really the least we can do since he sells it to us wholesale. I think it's just his way of making sure we don't drink on the job."

"You guys do this often?"

She nodded. "We don't get wasted every weekend, but we always get together. Ever since Haymitch took over, the place changed, you know? We're a family here."

I didn't really know - it was hard for me to picture anyone else being a part of my family other than Prim and my mom - but it was the way they were. And I was a part of them now. We cleaned up quickly enough and I rode with Annie to her apartment on the other side of the district. The building she lived in was a simple brick apartment building, with a gated entrance and keypad-coded front door. As simple as the outside may have looked, the inside was anything but. Annie's apartment took up the entire first floor and was decorated with a tasteful but exquisite ocean motif, sand-colored carpets, soft blue-green walls and worn furniture that looked like it was made from ship wreckage.

"Wow," I breathed. I had never seen such a beautiful home before, not from someone around my age anyway. Madge's home was beautiful but it had a sterile, cold feeling. Annie's was just as rich but with a warm, lived-in feeling, which made it more appealing. "This is amazing, Annie."

She flushed and ducked her head. "Thanks," she muttered. "It reminds me of home."

"You're from the coast?" I asked. I may not have grown up in the middle of the country, but I was far enough away from any ocean to basically have that experience. Everyone I knew was from my district and while I suspected my coworkers were from other districts, just by their looks, I guess I never really thought about where they might be from.

"Mm-hmm," she answered. "So is Finnick. He grew up a little further south but we're from the same district."

I raised my eyebrows. "Is that why you guys are…"

Annie grinned. "We're not 'technically' anything. Especially if Haymitch asks. But, I mean, yeah, I guess it helps that we've got that in common, among other things. We met when I first started working and he really helped mentor me through this crazy world. We just kind of...snuck up on each other, I think."

"Who snuck up on who?" A deep voice called from the doorway. "I'm pretty sure you kept making plays at me and I had to turn you down."

Annie rolled her eyes, but kept the smile on her face. Her entire face lit up when Finnick and one of the blondes - the one with the eyes - came into the room. "Whatever helps you sleep at night." She gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Hey, Peeta. You know Katniss?"

Peeta smiled. His lopsided grin accentuated his boyish features. "We met. How are you liking it so far, Katniss?"

"Good," I answered quietly. "Exhausting."

"Tell me about it. I was so tired after my first weekend shift that I passed out as soon as I got to the afterparty."

Finnick laughed and lightly punched Peeta on the arm. "Rookie mistake, really."

"They drew on me with permanent markers," Peeta laughed. "I spent all day in the shower and I still had some when I went to work that night." He leaned in close to me. "Don't worry, us newbies stick together."

I felt my skin prickle as his breath caught my ear. He backed off and started unloading food from the bags of groceries they brought in. Within the hour, Annie's apartment filled with coworkers, all unwinding after the long shift. I stayed in the kitchen area, leaning against the wall, sipping my rum and coke, taking the entire scene in. They were so comfortable together, lounging on each others' laps and laughing easily at bad jokes and old memories and stories from the night.

"Peeta!" Johanna yelled from her spot on the floor. She inhaled deeply from the joint that someone rolled until she couldn't breathe. "My darling Peeta, where are yooooou?"

"I didn't bring any cheesebuns," he called from the kitchen.

"Damnit. How did you know?"

He popped his head out and winked at her. "Don't think I don't know what you use me for, JoJo." Peeta mixed himself another drink and knocked his shoulder against mine. "Having fun?"

I shrugged. "Parties were never really my thing."

He smirked. "Not exactly a social butterfly?"

"Not exactly." I took another drink, letting the liquid run through my achy body. "I only know Annie and she's busy with everyone else."

"You know me," he said with a sly smile. I gave him a look and snorted. "Okay, well, you can get to know me," he continued, "If you want. What's your favorite color?"

"My favorite color?"

"Yeah. I think a person's favorite color tells a lot about them."

I twisted my lips but he eventually won me over. "Green. Dark green. Like a forest."

"You're a nature girl. Or obsessed with money," he winked, making me grin.

"What about you?" I shot back.

He gave a heavy sigh, as if it was such an inconvenience to be asked the same question he asked me. "Orange."

"You would be a pumpkin kind of guy."

Peeta just looked at me as I gulped down the rest of my drink to hide my nervousness. "You think I'm an obnoxious orange kind of guy? Oh, Katniss, you have so much to learn. No. Orange like a sunset, mixed with reds and pinks and yellows."

I watched his face as he continued to paint a picture of his favorite color. He was so intense but soft and he looked like he was in a dream of his own. "That's much more intense than 'green'," I joked, swirling my empty cup around. "What are you, like an artist or something?"

"Or something. You want some more?"

I glanced down at my empty cup, then out at the scene in front of me. "Lead the way."

Peeta and I spent the next few hours sitting on the kitchen floor talking. Every so often people would come in and join the conversation for a few minutes while they were refilling drinks, but for the most part, it was just the two of us. Never once was there a lull, and Peeta was perfectly at ease dominating the conversation, yet asking questions at the right time to keep me included. I was never one for major socialization, but between my exhaustion, the rum, and Peeta, it felt completely natural.

"Peeta? Ena's looking for you," Gloss, the other blonde security guy mentioned, when he came in to get another drink.

Peeta rolled his eyes. "Of course she is." He lifted himself off the floor and held his hand out for me. "Come on. I'm not facing the beast alone."

I nervously followed him into the hazy living room. Clearly there had been at least one additional joint rolled and smoked in the time we spent in the kitchen. The entire apartment had the sweet and musky scent of weed and everyone in the living room was just a little more relaxed than just alcohol could produce. As soon as the dark skinned girl with long brown hair and dangerous teeth sat up, Peeta shifted behind me to hold onto my hip. It caught me off guard - only one man had ever touched me so intimately before - but I allowed it. His hand was warm and the exposed skin between my shirt and shorts pucked up under his touch.

"Hey, Peeta," Enobaria cooed. Her eyes were bloodshot but stuck to him with laser-like focus. "I haven't seen you all night."

"I've been getting to know our newest member. Have you met Katniss, Ena?" His grip on my hip tightened and he pulled me slightly closer to his side.

She looked over at me and curled her lips back into a snarled smile. "The new bartender, right? I heard you tried to break up a fight tonight."

I shrugged. "It wasn't that big of a deal," I muttered.

"It was stupid," she shot back. "Cash and Jo are vicious. You put yourself in the middle of an intense feud."

"Hey!" Johanna called, sitting herself up on her elbows. "Cashmere and I aren't even the worst ones. Huh, Cashmere?" A pale arm shot up in agreement, which Johanna tried to reach for but ended up just collapsing back onto the floor. "See?"

Enobaria just glared at Johanna. "Still. You need to learn your place, Braids."

As she turned her attention back to Peeta, my hands went to my messy braid. Annie may have said this was like a family but I couldn't imagine any family member acting like that. I tried to pull away, but I felt Peeta's hand anchor me near him. I tried to block out their conversation and focused on my drink instead, which went down way too easily as Enobaria's increasingly aggressive attempts to pull Peeta onto the couch with her continued.

I rested my head on Peeta's shoulder and sighed heavily. "I'm thirsty," I said quietly.

He looked over at me and grinned. "Okay. Let's get you another drink." He pulled away from the couch and led me back toward the kitchen. "Thank you," he said once we were out of sight of Enobaria. "Sober Ena is tolerable as long as you stay on her good side. Get some drinks into her and she's way too intense for me."

"She's tolerable?" I asked, pouring way too much rum into my empty cup. "Oops." I stared at my cup and twisted my lips. Shrugging, I took a large gulp of the stuff with no chaser and slammed the cup down. "Because she seems like a bitch."

"You're new and pretty and they're still getting used to you," he explained.

Somehow I knew that was the case. Annie already told me that it took time for some of them to get used to newbies but...wait..."What?" I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering if it was that double (or triple) shot of rum I just took that made me hear what I heard.

"You're new and they're getting used to you," he repeated, focusing his attention on filling our cups with more mixer than rum. He handed me my cup. "What?"

"You said 'pretty.'"

"Nope."

I grinned at the blush that worked its way from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. "Well thanks. You know...for not hating the new girl."

He clinked his cup against mine and we both drank. We spent the rest of the night together, both purposely ignoring the growing tension between us.

* * *

><p>My schedule at the club became pretty regular over the next few weeks. Three days off, four days on; always off on Sundays, always on on Fridays and Saturdays. Annie and I traded weekday shifts so neither of us were forced to work three day weekends every week. Which meant I got to spend every other day back at home with my sister. She complained initially about not getting to see me over the weekend, but once school started up, she spent more time with her own friends than she ever would have with me. Instead, we devoted one night during the week to sister time and do whatever she wanted. Sometimes that meant going shopping and actually buying new clothes or heading to the arcade in district 3. But most weeks it was just pizza and a movie rental, a treat we never could afford when we were younger. If I was being honest, those were my favorite nights. Don't get me wrong, I would never deny my baby sister anything she wanted, but just being able to out with her made me feel more justified with where I was working.<p>

I can't remember what spurred the initial question, but I do know that I had just taken too big a bite of pepperoni pizza when Prim asked, "Why did you stop putting on shows for us?"

I remembered the pizza because I burnt the top of mouth so badly, it felt like layers of skin were peeling off. The question just came out of nowhere; it wasn't like we were watching some Disney movie that was more singing than dialogue. "What?"

"I just…" Prim put the slice of pizza she had been working on down. "I don't have a lot of memories of Dad. Or Mom before she...you know...but I remember you used to sing and dance and perform. I remember it being really special. And you were really good."

"How do you remember that? You were just a kid."

She shrugged. "It was a good memory, I guess."

And there, sitting across from me, wasn't my seventeen year old sister who was in her last year of high school and preparing to go college and then med school. Sitting there was the seven year old who lost her father and mother at the same time; a child whose childhood was ripped away from her no matter how hard I tried to piece it back together. I set my own slice down and sighed. "I don't know, Duck. It was hard. For me and Mom."

"It was hard for me too, you know," she answered quietly. "I just wanted us to be normal again. I wanted you to be normal again. To be happy."

I felt my eyes prick with tears and I sucked in my cheeks to try and stop them from falling. "I am happy now that I can take care of you."

Prim scoffed. "I know. And I'm grateful, Katniss, I really am. It's just...you've always done things for me; to protect me or care for me. But you never took care of yourself. Even now, you're making so much money and you only spend it on things I want." She looked up at me, her eyes rimmed red. "I want you to be really happy. Like you were then."

I couldn't look at her when she was like that. My genius, intuitive sister who had always been able to see right through me. She knew when I would give her my share of dinner or would patch up her clothing before my own or gave up what little money I scrounged up so she could go with her friends. Instead, I shifted my attention to the basement door.

"Prim…" I say quietly, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Do you want me to teach you how to dance?"

I always knew my younger sister was smarter than I ever was. The first night in the basement was harder than I ever imagined and it took at least half an hour before I was really able to move without ending with tears streaming down my face. Prim called it catharsis, the little know-it-all. Whatever it was, it helped. And slowly yet surely, I was back into a familiar rhythm. It was strange - as used to physical labor as I was, dancing definitely worked muscles I completely forgot existed. I was thankful for my slower weekday shifts because I was able to stretch and loosen up behind the bar and still move around to keep my legs warm.

I started paying more attention to the girls on those slower nights, to their legs and arms and body movements, trying to figure out how to do them on my own later. It was harder than I expected, keeping my legs straight and strong for even a fraction of the time they did and my arms, though strong, didn't have nearly the stamina I thought they did. But I didn't dance for stamina or strength, I danced for that catharsis.

Prim said she could see the difference in my demeanor immediately but I'm pretty sure she just saw what she wanted to. There was nothing really different about me except that I spent my free time in the basement rather than my room or on the hiking trails right outside of town.

* * *

><p>Nights at the club got easier.<p>

I opened my first bank account when Peeta found out I was hiding my money in a box at the back of my closet. We grew closer to one another, and he became my unofficial security guy, walking me to the bus stop when we worked the same shifts, and we stuck close together at the weekend parties. Part of me wanted desperately to tell Peeta about me dancing again, but another part didn't. It was just for me, for my own happiness. And something told me Peeta would have the same reaction as Prim did - like it would forever change my life for the better. As I got to know Peeta, the more I realized his sunny optimistic act was who he was, minus the act.

Annie gave me funny looks whenever we'd walk into work together but I never understood why. We were friends, we came from the same district, although Peeta was a few years older than me and came from the _Merchant's Quarters_, a high end part of town where Madge lived, but admitted that now that he had his own place, he never went back to 12. Like Finnick had been to her, Peeta was a familiar part of home that made me feel more at ease in this new world. He introduced and helped me ease my way into the _Victor's Village_ family, which was still troublesome with most of the dancers, but at least better than it was when I started. Enobaria still didn't like me, but Annie said that was par for the course.

"It took me about six months before she stopped looking like she was going to rip my throat out," she admitted. "She still scares the shit out of me even if we are closer now. You'll know when you're on her good side."

I wasn't sure what the hell that was supposed to mean but, like everything else, I took her word for it and tried not to let the icy glares or snide remarks get under my skin. From her or any other dancer. While most had lessened their negative views of me, it was clear I was still the outsider. And they had no intention of allowing me in their inner circle anytime soon. The security boys took me under their wing, partially because of Annie's good word and my friendship with Peeta, which I suppose suited me just fine. I listened in on their conversations at the parties. Girl talk - opinions on clothes, hair, and makeup - stuff I've never been any good at.

For a couple of months, we had our usual routine. On-and-off work schedule, home in-between, long, crazy, busy weekends followed by afterparties on a rotating schedule. They all lived in amazing apartments; spacious, richly decorated, seemingly designed around their own personality. Finnick and Annie shared a coastal decor but Finnick's favored the fishing industry more than the shoreline. Johanna's looked like you stepped into a dense forest in the Pacific Northwest, Cashmere and Gloss shared an apartment (but would be the first to object to any speculation of dating or sex) that was dripping in opulence like I had never seen. Peeta's was my favorite, by far. Rich and decadent, sure, but had the most rustic feel of them all. Warm wood floors and brick walls were accented by vintage furniture and hand-crafted art. The kitchen was far more expansive and well-used than any of the others, which accounted for the freshly baked bread smell that permeated every corner of the space.

It was my favorite place to be and where I found myself crashing most nights I stayed in the district. Annie didn't say anything about it to anyone else, even though I knew by the looks she and Finnick would throw our way when I crawled out of the taxi at Peeta's apartment rather than taking the full trip to Annie's, that they thought there was more going on. They'd be disappointed to know that more often than not, by the time we made our way up to Peeta's top floor apartment, I'd crash on the couch and he barely made it to his own bed before falling asleep. Even if we wanted to, neither of us had the energy for extracurricular activities.

After one particular night, not that there was anything particularly special about it, Haymitch made a rare appearance and told us we could stay put for the night, that he was hosting the after hours and all the drinks were on him. "I guess it's finally back to me," he mumbled, waving his hand over his head and retreating back into his office. "Don't break anything. Or make me regret this."

Peeta and Johanna headed up into the sound equipment room to put on music that wasn't the pop/r&b/remix music that we listened to every night, but was still a good mix of chill and dance music. The security boys hopped behind the bar to grab whatever we wanted to drink and after a while, even Haymitch rejoined us. I sat at a table with Peeta, watching the others get up on stage and dance with each other. He pulled my legs into his lap, slipped my shoes off and started rubbing the soles of my feet.

"You can just never stop doing that," I told him, letting my head rest against the back of the chair.

He laughed, "I don't know, Everdeen, turnabout's fair play. And I can't make any promises about the nature of my feet."

I crinkled my nose and kicked my legs at him. Haymitch joined us, plopping down in the chair next to me with a tumbler full of white liquor that smelled way too strong to be any vodka we had in back. "Fitting in, Sweetheart?"

I shrugged. "I suppose."

He barked out a laugh and looked over at Peeta, who raised his eyebrows but said nothing. "You're lucky this one's been taken in by you. He's helping your likeability rating."

I scowled. I was likeable enough. Enough for this job anyway. "I don't need allies," I spat.

"You do if you want to stay alive," Haymitch answered cryptically. "Stick with Sunshine and you'll be fine."

"Like you know so much about being likeable." In the time I had been at the club, I'd only seen Haymitch on the floor a handful of times and speaking to even fewer people. Most of the time, he did a sweep of the floor, drinking his pungent white liquor, scowling and ignoring anyone who tried to talk to him. I often wondered how such an unapproachable man could run such a successful club for so long.

He just laughed again and took another drink. Peeta gave my feet a light squeeze and I relaxed. It was an easy night, with drinks flowing and no real tension to speak of. Maybe it was Haymitch's presence with us, maybe it was because we were still at work and felt the need to be on our best behavior, I didn't know, but I wasn't about to complain.

After a few rounds of too-strong of drinks and a few shots of Haymitch's choice, nothing was off limits. Which for Johanna meant stripping down to her bra and panties because, in her words "she wanted to breathe without being sexualized." Apparently all the employees had seen enough of the dancers' bodies to not even be phased by them anymore. The same could not be said for me so the first time she stood near me, her nearly bare breasts right at my eye level, I did everything I could to stay focused anywhere else.

Unfortunately for me, she joined us at the table to talk to Peeta. The two were close, apparently, and had an easy back and forth, completely ignoring my apparent discomfort. At least, I thought they were ignoring me until the conversation dropped completely and I looked up to see them all staring at me, holding in laughter. "What?"

"Don't want to talk to us, Braids?" Johanna asked.

I shrugged. I didn't want to talk to her, especially when she was dressed like that. Everyone else kept their clothes on. Maybe she should have packed more comfortable clothes if jeans and a t-shirt were too much for her.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

She was pushing me. I looked over at Peeta who was failing miserably at his attempts to keep a straight face. I kicked his leg with my heel.

"What?" He laughed, rubbing at his thigh. "What did I do?"

Johanna stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. "Leave little Peetakins alone, Braids. It's not his fault you're so pure and innocent."

I scowled. There may be nothing wrong with being innocent and pure but the way she said it, with such condescension dripping from her tongue, that sparked a flame of irritation inside me. "It's cute that you think I'm so pure."

She cocked an eyebrow at me. "Then why are you so uncomfortable with your own body? That's a sure sign of pristine innocence."

I looked down at my attire. In my tinier-than-normal shorts and redesigned t-shirt, I was exposing more skin right now than anyone but her. "I dress just as provocatively as Annie. As any of you when you're not on stage."

Peeta smirked. "She doesn't mean your attire is innocent, Katniss."

I snapped my head in his direction. "Excuse me?"

He shrank slightly at my tone, "I'm just saying...she meant…"

"I meant," Johanna interrupted, saving poor Peeta from my impending wrath for defending her, "that you may dress the part, but you don't belong here. We love our bodies, we love showing them off, we're proud of the effect we have on people. You hide and pretend like wearing skimpy clothes means the same thing. I can be covered head to toe and still be more at home in my skin than you are."

"You don't know that," I answered, secretly wondering how the hell she did know that. I worked all my life to build up a sense of confidence about myself only to have the facade completely shot down by a half-naked woman I've only had one conversation with.

She laughed. "I do. It's who you are, there's nothing wrong with it. But you should accept that if you're going to keep working here, you're going to be the outsider. And not just because you're new."

I sucked my bottom lip between my teeth as she shrugged and sauntered off. "Hey," Peeta said, giving my foot a shake. "Don't stress about Johanna. She's just trying to get a reaction out of you."

I shook my head, rolling my eyes at the same time. "Whatever."

"Hey," he pulled my foot closer to him, "seriously. You don't have to prove anything to her. If you say you're not pure then you're not."

I pulled both of my legs out of his lap. "Even you don't believe me! Everyone here thinks, what? That I have to get up on stage and do what they do in order to be good enough to work here. Like it's so hard to dance and take your clothes off." I scoffed. "I could do what they do."

"Careful, Sweetheart," Haymitch warned with a sly grin.

"No," I protested. "Seriously. I could do that. I could get up there and dance and spin around a pole and take my clothes off. I could."

"Dare you, Brainless!" Johanna called from another table, a cheshire smile on her face, as if that's what she had been planning the whole time. "We'll even let you pick the song if you want. Since it's so easy."

That caught the attention of everyone and all eyes fell on me. Oh fuck me.

"You don't have to prove anything, Katniss," Peeta whispered. "No one is going to judge you for not going through with it. No one will think less of you."

But that was just it, I realized. They would think less of me. I would think less of me because Johanna had been absolutely correct in her assessment of me. I envied those girls because of how comfortable they were with their bodies and sexuality. I never lived that part of my life because I was too busy being an adult for Prim. Relationships in general took a backseat in my life with the exception of a two year relationship with a childhood friend that ended in complete disaster.

As I stared at the stage, with the silver pole shining in the middle, I knew that I needed it. I needed it for myself more than for anyone else. "Black Coffee," I told him, "Peggy Lee's version."

Peeta stared at me but eventually relented, heading back to the sound booth to find the song I knew he had because I put it on his ipod. I walked up to the now-deserted stage but was stopped by Annie's arm reaching out to grab me.

"Katniss. Are you really going to do this?" I nodded my response and she smiled. "Good. Remember - make sure your hands are dry and the pole is clean. Don't do anything crazy and don't try to flip upside down. Follow your body's lead - your brain is going to tell you to stop but your body knows what to do."

"You think I can do this?" I asked, surprised by her advice.

Her smile widened. "I think you can prove Johanna wrong." She slapped my ass and started whooping when I climbed the side stairs.

I stood up on stage, wiping my hands on my shirt, and gripping the pole the way I had seen the girls do before. I kept my eyes closed and took a deep breath. I imagined myself down in my basement, with no one watching me. The opening bars of "Black Coffee" came over the speaker and I began to rock my hips in time. The words flowed over me and my head dropped to spin, flipping my hair. My hands went to the end of my braid and pulled the tie loose, letting all my hair down in soft waves.

Holding onto the pole, walking on my tiptoes, I began walking in circles, running my other hand through my hair. Sometimes I would spin so my back was against the pole and I'd drop so my knees were at a 90 degree angle. Other times, I'd extend my legs out, holding myself up with my arms, which were shaking already. Spinning and dropping were two things I knew I could do easily enough but I also knew it wouldn't be enough. I would need to do something more.

As I walked around, I opened my eyes and saw Annie in the front, making a spinning circle with her finger and mouth something to me. I nodded, knowing what she was saying. I'd have to do an actual pole move. An image of something I saw Johanna doing that night popped into my head and I worked out the mechanics of it in my head easily enough. _Trust your body_, that's what Annie told me. And I would need to, because the idea of spinning around the pole with just my arms and legs holding on made my brain want to bail.

I extended my left leg out and brought it in, using my momentum to spin around the pole. I brought both legs straight out in front of me, keeping the pole gripped between my thighs. As I neared the floor, I let my right leg down first, toes brushing against the floor, then bent my knee so my toes were facing backward. I leaned back, using my hands to help stabilize me until my back was against the stage floor. I brought both knees up in front of me and let my feet slide up and down the pole before rolling onto my stomach. I saw how the girls usually got up from the floor and figured it would be good enough for me, so I led with my ass in the air, dragging my chest along the floor until I was sitting on my feet. One more hair flip as the song came to a close and I finally braved myself to look out into the crowd.

"I think Sweetheart may be looking at a job change if she wants it," I heard Haymitch tell Peeta, who was back at the table. His eyes were dark and locked onto mine and I felt my stomach flutter in a way that I knew wasn't from the adrenaline racing through my body. Everyone cheered, even Enobaria, who looked like it was taking everything out of her to congratulate me. Johanna stood up and whistled, confirming my suspicion about her intentions. I took a deep breath and stood, giving a little bow and bounding down the stairs.

"I did good?" I asked Peeta.

His pupils were thick and only a sliver of his blue iris was showing. "I never knew you could move like that," he answered huskily. My tongue slipped out to wet my dried lips and I swear I could hear a slight groan from his chest. For the rest of the night, I was more accepted by everyone but could feel his eyes on me, no matter where I was or who I was talking to.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> This was my FF4Ls submission this year. There will be four parts (updated once a week). Thanks to everyone who supported me through this and to my wonderful pole instructor for teaching me so many moves. This isn't necessarily realistic of what happens at these clubs but it's my story so I say it's okay ;)

Let me know your thoughts, I'd love to hear them.


	2. The Flame

Haymitch had me start working out with the other girls right away. Like them, I received a membership to a premier gym, a diet regimen to supplement the workout, and dance training so I could actually learn moves and "body awareness." Five days a week, three to four hours a day, I ran, boxed, lifted weights, swam, did boot camp training, anything and everything Atal, our drill sergeant turned personal trainer, barked at me to do. Our only reprieve was on Fridays when we did yoga and Pilates but even then my entire body felt like jelly. Haymitch kept my bartending schedule the same. "It'll prepare you for when you're ready for the stage."

Between workouts and work, I was in town nearly every day and despite Peeta's offering of massages, sleeping on couches was doing nothing to soothe my aching body so begrudgingly, I started apartment hunting. I had more than enough saved up at that point to live just about anywhere, but the one building I wanted - the homey, rustic one Peeta lived in - was completely full. Luckily, a few days later, a top floor suite in the building across from his opened up. Cash in hand, I swept it up hours after it went on the market.

My chest swelled with pride when I signed the lease. It was the first big purchase I ever made and I was proud that I made it all on my own. I invited Peeta over on one of my off days, and he confirmed that it was a good place, which helped me feel better about it.

"Are you bringing your own stuff or…?"

I tried not to let my face show my feelings on the subject. Anything I had at home needed to stay there. But there was no way I could afford an entire apartment's worth of furniture. "I thought I'd go check out the thrift shop."

Peeta laughed. "You don't have to do that. Plutarch will help take care of everything."

"Plutarch?" My eyebrows furrowed. "Who is Plutarch?"

"He's a designer Haymitch knows. He's helped all of us decorate our apartments to our own style."

I shook my head. "I don't have enough saved up for that." That and the idea of spending even more money on myself that I should be saving for Prim made my stomach turn.

Peeta smiled. "He works on payment plans, whatever you can afford. I don't know what kind of friendship he and Haymitch have but he's been taking care of all of us. He's a good guy, Katniss, he'll make sure you're completely comfortable in your space. Haymitch...he's rough, right, but he cares about us all in his own way. Trust him when he sends people your way. He's only trying to help you like he's been helping us all."

I worried my bottom lip, still not sure it was the right thing to do, but Peeta's smile and earnest blue eyes wore me down and I agreed to meet with this Plutarch guy. "I suppose it'll be nice to have a real bed again."

Plutarch Heavensbee was a rotund man with thinning blonde hair and a deep laugh that made his entire body shake. He walked through my apartment with me, stroking his thick mustache when I told him about my hobbies and interests. He asked me questions that I didn't really understand what they had to do with decorating, but Peeta warned me about Plutarch's eccentric style so I bit my tongue and went along with him. Sometimes he'd walk into a room and just stop. I was never sure what exactly I was supposed to do, so I ended up just hanging out against a wall until he asked me a question.

"Give me two days, Miss Everdeen," he announced. "This place will just scream you." With a smile and a wink, he exited my new apartment in a whirlwind of confusion and style. Odd as he was, when he was finally done, I had to admit his methods worked. Without being aware of it, because I certainly never told him, he made my new apartment look remarkably like the cabin my family used to go to in the summers. It even smelled like I remembered, thanks to the candles Plutarch thought to set on my counter. My bed had a pine wood frame with natural knots and lines, as if it were actually set from trees and not mass produced in a factory.

For the first time since my father died, I actually felt at home someplace. It should have had some ghosts, I thought, since it reminded me so much of those happy summers where life seemed to just stop, but it didn't. This place was light and airy; not like my home in District 12 which still felt suffocating and cold. I sat back on the couch Plutarch found and closed my eyes. Yes. This felt right.

I didn't meet my pole dance instructor until I had survived three weeks of training. The woman in charge was fairly demanding in that she would only work with those who had the stamina and strength to make it worth her time. That's what Haymitch told me in a hoity, exaggerated accent that made me roll my eyes in disgust. Turned it out, the accent wasn't all that exaggerated. To this day, I don't know where Miss Effie Trinket originated from except maybe some cotton candy colored bowel of dancing hell.

"Welcome, welcome," she greeted me on the day of our first lesson. I met her at a dance studio in the gym that was set up specifically for pole dancing. She was wearing mile high, bright pink heels that matched her barely-there workout clothes. Her face was impeccably made up and her bleach blonde hair was piled atop her head. "You must be Katniss Everdeen."

I nodded, wondering just how dangerous this perky woman in her mile high, bright pink heels was.

She smiled and clapped her hands together and walked over to her as if she were walking barefoot. I had never seen anyone so comfortable in what had to be the most uncomfortable shoes in existence. "Excellent. We'll get started then. I do have a few ground rules for all the girls I teach. Rule one - you will not eat fewer than three hours before my classes. I won't have you throwing up all over my floor. Rule two - you will smile anytime you do any spins or pole moves. None of this…" she waved her hand in my face, "glaring thing you're doing now. That's not attractive and will not win you any favors. Rule three - do not, under any circumstances, attempt any moves I have not taught you. There is no place for rebels in here and I won't have you hurting yourself because you think you know better." She smiled at me with that one, as if she had seen her own share of girls doing what they wanted instead of listening to her, which wouldn't surprise me. "And finally. For the entire time you are in my studio, you will walk on the balls of your toes. I hear you have some dance experience?"

Turns out, the perky woman with the ridiculous accent in the mile high, bright pink heels was the most evil woman I ever encountered. By the end of our first session, I knew how to do a multitude of spins and flying pole moves at the cost of blisters on my feet and hands, cramps in my legs from constantly pointing my toes, and arms that felt like they might fall out of their sockets.

"I suppose that will have to do for your first lesson. We'll meet again in a couple days," she told me, chipper as ever, without a speck of makeup out of place. I glared at her, my face red and drenched in sweat. "Next time you'll learn how to climb so please wear the appropriate attire." She pointed to her own get up. "You'll need skin to stick to the pole."

Calluses and blisters on my hands and feet were nothing compared to the bruises and pole burn that accented my olive toned legs after learning to climb. Yellow and purple spots all over my knees and feet and arms. Bruises I was keen to show off to Peeta at the bar on slow nights. I turned to the side and pushed my thigh out. "See? This one's a few days old."

"You are so strange," he laughed. "You like your bruises?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. I dunno, they're like badges of honor or something. Effie says -"

"I'm surprised Effie let you back into her studio like that," he snorted. "Johanna says she's a bit of a tight-ass perfectionist."

I rolled my eyes. "She's kind of ridiculous. And between you and me, she doesn't look like she's qualified to do anything. But I watched her do a routine once before class and...she's good. Even in those stupid heels."

He reached down and poked a particularly large bruise with his finger. "Doesn't it hurt?"

I winced. "A little. But I heal pretty quickly."

"Hm."

"What?" I asked, laughing and going back to stocking the bar.

He was silent for a moment and when I looked back over at him, he was leaning against the bar, watching me, eyes darker than expected, even in the dim lighting. "Nothing. Have a good night, Katniss."

Something was different about him, about how he acted around me. I noticed it for the first time at the party in the club, after my dance. I would catch him watching me more than usual and his eyes took on that dark hue. He would watch me as a predator watches her prey, but it was fleeting. A blink and he was back to his normal, sunshine state, leaving me anxious and uncertain in his wake.

Effie had given me an assignment during my shifts, to observe - as much as possible - the other girls and what they were doing. I was to identify the moves I knew and make note of what I wanted to learn. It was slightly easier now than when I first started, since I knew the bar like the back of my hand and had trained my eyes to move much faster. _Whiskey and cola, Guinness, modified ballerina to basket, four shots of tequila, candy cane to back arch, always with toes pointed._ The climbs of course were more impressive than my beginner attempts and most could flip themselves upside down, sliding down to the floor and stopping themselves right as their head was about to smack the stage. It didn't matter how many times I had seen them do that, my breath caught in my throat. For the first time, however, my heart fluttered with the idea that maybe, someday, I could do that. It was a strange thought, I realized, to be excited about dancing again. Especially this kind of dancing.

Twice a week, I worked with Effie, learning and perfecting moves and lines and flow. Twice a week for what felt like forever but was probably only six weeks, I walked on the balls of my feet until I felt like they would bleed. Twice a week for six weeks and Effie finally pronounced that I was as good as I was going to get. Apparently that was her stamp of approval but it felt like a punch to the gut.

Annie laughed and told me Effie told that to all the girls when they were deemed fit for the stage.

"Well she sure knows how to make a girl feel special," I mumbled.

"It gets easier," she promised. "Effie and Atala are intense, yes, but now that you're ready, you'll get to meet Cinna. And I think you're going to like Cinna."

Cinna was in charge of costuming. He worked with an assistant, Portia, out of the studio he built in the basement of the club. Despite being in the basement, and the basement of this club, everything about the studio was calm, simple, and, if I was being honest, plain compared the opulence upstairs. Similar to his space, Cinna was dressed in a black button down and dark jeans, with a single hoop earring in his left ear and a thin line of gold eyeliner, which stood out against his dark skin. He was simple and sophisticated, long and lean, handsome but humble looking. "Hello. You must be Katniss," he welcomed me with a warm smile. "I'm Cinna."

He was one of the rare people who could draw a smile out of me instantly.

Cinna sat me down in a plush chair and poured me a glass of red wine. "Relax, Katniss, this is just a consultation. I'm just going to get to know you, get some measurements, and that's it. Nothing to be nervous about."

I accepted the glass and took a tentative sip. I had never been much of a wine drinker, except for the cheap Boone's Farm shit after high school because it was all I could afford. But that wine had hints of berries and chocolate and I found myself able to swallow a sip without grimacing. "So," I started, trying to smile at Cinna, "you're the costume guy?"

He nodded. "I suppose that's the simple way to view what Portia and I do. _Victor's Village_, as you've learned by now, is not about stripping or getting naked. It's about the illusion presented. Yes, there is exposed skin and clear sex appeal, but what sets us apart from the other clubs is that all the employees, especially the dancers, engage in fantasy fulfillment. These men can see naked women anytime they want; they don't come here to pay to see what they can have. They want what they can't have, what they don't know they want. And I help you become that fantasy for them."

I snorted. "I don't think there's much about me that's anyone's fantasy." I don't say it to get a response, I say it because it's true. Men don't exactly salivate over me like I've seen them do the other girls at the club. Or other girls in general. I'm plain, small, and not all that pretty and it's something that never really bothered me before. But this idea that somehow I'm supposed to be this fantasy for a bunch of strangers makes me stomach twist. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, agreeing to be a dancer instead of just saving extra from the bartending gig. "I may be the wrong girl for this."

Cinna didn't say anything for a long time. He simply looked at me with a watchful eye, taking slow sips of his own wine. Then he leans forward and smiles. "I think, Katniss Everdeen, that you may be the absolute perfect girl for this. Do you trust me?"

He took my measurements, a pathetically small 32-24-34. My size never seemed at all relevant until this job but Cinna reassured me that, given my height, my proportions were nearly perfect. "Your proportions would be perfect no matter your height," he said with a wink. It made me wonder just how many of these girls felt inadequate about their bodies at some point. It seemed impossible that anyone like Cashmere, who was the epitome of classic beauty, or even Johanna, who was toned but still extremely feminine, ever questioned if anyone would find them attractive enough. I wanted to ask but it felt far too personal a question.

"Go take a look around at the studio," he told me after he finished writing down his notes. "I'll need to meet with Portia to go over a few things and then we'll both sit down with you and show you our ideas." He pointed to a back room where racks and racks of clothing, ranging from corsets and tutus to various shades of flesh toned g-strings and bras. There were boots and heels and shirts and skirts; all custom made for each girl as indicated by the name on the rack. I ran my fingertips along the fabrics, wondering if the customers knew how much work went into creating their fantasies. Or if they even cared. I lost myself in the work room, surrounded by such creativity and imagination that I could never have created in my wildest dreams.

"The difference is in the details," a woman's voice cut through my thoughts. "Anyone can create lingerie, which is why we work so hard to set ours apart."

I looked up to see Cinna and a woman I didn't recognize by sight but assumed to be the Portia he referred to. They were an odd pairing, similar in skin tone and stature but where Cinna was simple, Portia was outlandish. Not as extreme as Effie Trinket, but it was clear this woman had a deep and passionate love of fashion that I didn't understand and normally wouldn't like. But there was something about the way she carried herself made me appreciate her aesthetic. "They're all beautiful."

"Glad you think so," Cinna said, beckoning me toward him. "I've got some drawings we'd like to show you."

The three of us sat at one of the worktables while Cinna flipped through his portfolio of rough drawings he created for me. "I figured you'd be more comfortable if your...modesty...was still covered," Cinna said, pointing to drawings of undergarments. "Portia had the idea of dying the bottom layer to match your skin tone so you'll still have that illusion of nudity. Then, what we'll do is design around that."

I'm in awe of his designs, but quickly figure out his concept. Innocent. Naive. New. Fresh. There are flowing skirts and floral accessories in soft pastels and soft colors. They aren't really my style, but at this point in my life, I'm not sure that I have any real style other than jeans and a t-shirt, which clearly wasn't acceptable in this environment. I don't want to doubt him or his experience; he and Portia had been designing outfits since Haymitch took over the club. They knew the ins and outs of everyone who worked there, who frequented there, and what would and wouldn't work. But something about the simple designs made me wonder, "Is it enough of a fantasy?"

He and Portia shared a look. "This is just the wrapping, Katniss. It's what's underneath that will make you memorable." My confusion must register on my face because Cinna leans in close with a conspiratorial grin. "You're not the typical girl, are you? You're feisty and ballsy and determined, especially when you're proving yourself. I've seen that when you're behind the bar and I believe that will come across again on stage. That is the fantasy. Innocence undressed to expose that fire. You'll be…"

"A girl on fire," I finished, connecting the dots he started.

"A girl on fire," he agreed. "And you're not afraid of a little fire are you, Katniss?"

* * *

><p>I felt like my stomach was going to drop out of my butt. It was my first night as a dancer and even though I was assigned to be one of the middle dancers I was absolutely petrified. One of the girls said they always start the new girls in the middle because the customers were less likely to remember them there, something about psychology and memory or something like that. I think it was supposed to be supportive but I still couldn't be sure. I'd get two different performances while the rest of the girls did at least three, which I was more than okay with. I must have washed my hands about a hundred times and I still worried I'd slip all over the pole.<p>

Johanna found me right before I was supposed to go on and stepped right in my path, effectively blocking me. She had an eyebrow cocked as she scanned me up and down. "Make 'em pay for you," she said casually, adjusting a strap on my top. She grabbed my hands and rubbed on some sort of paste and sauntered off.

I was pretty sure she was trying to psych me out and if I was being honest, it worked. I heard my name announced as the lights dropped and it took a few heartbeats to force myself onstage. I kept my eyes on the floor, too scared to look out at who could be watching me. Effie would have a fit if she knew I had no plans of engaging the audience but she wasn't here to bitch at me.

The start of the pop-techno song that was selected for me started and I had just enough time to think about the first move - walking to the pole. I've done the routine more times than I can remember. As I reached the pole, I twisted so my back was against it and pumped my body down twice. I realized the stuff Johanna put on my hands was a gripping agent and I silently thanked her for the insight. On the third, I lifted my left leg straight and pumped down to the floor, rolling to my stomach, and rising up ass first. I crawled to the front of the stage, which was the first time I realized I'd actually have to look at someone at this point. I nervously glanced into the audience and only saw swarms of colors and shapes, though nothing recognizable. Until I caught a flash of blue. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on the customers, but it was clear that Peeta was watching me. And instantly I felt more confident. More comfortable. If he was going to watch me then I would watch him back. I crawled to the edge of the stage, mermaid my legs around to my elbow. Two rounds of dancer feet, a big rainbow arch with my legs and a roll onto my stomach. Another cat-pounce up with what Effie called a "peek a boo" rise because my legs worked to give the audience just a "peek" of what was under my skirt. I walked back to the pole to wrap my feet around the pole for a basic spin, shifting my legs to be on the same side of the pole and twisting up to a standing position. I walked around the pole and turned so my chest was facing it. "Personal flair" was another one of Effie's words that basically just meant shake your hips and ass in time to the music. Hand up on the pole, turn underneath, slither down to the floor, push knees down, hair flip. I could do the routine in my sleep, but I kept my eyes locked on Peeta's. I was doing this for him. It was the only way I could get through it without the slightest sense of degradation - especially when I caught the first glimpse of green paper landing on the edge of the stage. Even in the back of the room, I could see his Adam's apple bob when I ladder-climbed up the pole and struggled to catch up with my own racing heart.

I played with my shirt, the first indication to the crowd that I was going to actually expose skin. Gone, in theory, was the girl dancing in a long flowing skirt and in her place was the woman underneath, waiting to come out. It sounded so ridiculous when Effie explained it to me, but I had to admit that in the moment, I got it. Not that I'd ever tell her that.

Knowing Peeta was watching made me nervous and aroused at the same time. I imagined him being the only one in the crowd, the only one who got to see the rest of me. Lifting the shirt over my head, I leaned forward and pulled my body back, taking the top off in the process. I gave a wink and tossed the shirt into the audience, grinning for the first time as they all cheered wildly. Portia had done an amazing job dying the bra to match my olive tone, hand painting freckles on where they would naturally be if I was naked. Cinna had included dim flames over the rest of me, like a flickering light, to symbolize my initial coming out. Or...something. I still didn't really understand his image but he said it would make more sense over time.

One of my more advanced spins was next, a modified ballerina to basket, which had me falling backwards, completely against what my body wanted to do, and lifting my legs up into a sitting position. I did a body wave up to stand and hooked my foot against the pole, leaning backwards so I could see the audience upside down. Rising up, I repositioned my hands to trot around the pole, leaned back and swung my leg between myself and the pole. Anytime I walked around the pole, I popped my head back, making my hair flip around me, to make sure I could see Peeta. I had to hope that he couldn't see I was staring at him as intensely as I was, but I didn't dare look elsewhere. I turned under my arm so my back was against the pole, repositioning my hands into a baseball grip, scissor kicked and slid to the floor. Pulling myself to roll to the other side, I pumped my hips up twice, rolled back to my stomach, and cat pounced up, trying not to grimace at the pain in my knees from too many cat pounces on this hard stage. I rose up and turned again so my chest was pressed against the pole and I was facing the audience. Well, facing Peeta.

I turned so my back was against the pole and hooked my thumbs into the top of my skirt. The catcalls crescendoed and I continued to tease them, making figure eights with my hips while s-l-o-w-l-y lowering the hem of my skirt to expose just my skin-toned thong. As hard as I tried, Cinna said it had to be a thong or a g-string for the bottoms and the thong had slightly more fabric than the alternative. When my skirt reached my knees, I used my feet to finish pulling it down and kicked it off stage with my abandoned shirt.

I walked around the pole, extending my leg and spinning around with the pole squeezed between my bent knees. I rose up, leading with my pelvis, walked around and repeated the move but with my legs straight out in front of me. I crossed my knees on the ground and arched back to the ground, playing with my hair in the process. I ran my bare feet up and down the pole and pushed back so I was a full body length from it. From there, I rolled back to my stomach and crawled to the edge of the stage, trying to avoid the slick spots where the money had landed. I rose to my knees, making full body circles up and back as fluidly as possible. One more peekaboo rise and I was done. I survived. The music, timed perfectly with my routine, came to a close and the lights came back up.

I felt my heart race and my breathing labor, but I couldn't stop the grin on my face. I collected my discarded clothes and all the money, including some that were being held up just for me. I had never been desired in that way before, never been seen as sexual in a stranger's eye. I wondered if I should have been so pleased, was I being objectified by these men or was I being adored by them? Guilt bubbled in my stomach at the conflict but was immediately quelled when a blue eyed, blonde haired bouncer caught my eye again. He wasn't objectifying me. He was devouring me with his eyes. And at that moment, that was all I cared about.

I scurried off stage and rushed past the girls who were finally smiling at me, smiling without looking like they were going to murder me in my sleep, out the back door to where the smokers took their breaks. Luckily, no one was outside so I was able to lean against the wall in peace. I had never experienced a rush like that before. And I knew only part of it was actually being on stage. Something shifted when I found Peeta in the crowd. Something I didn't expect and didn't know what to do with. Peeta and I were friends and that was it. I wasn't looking for a hookup or a relationship and I couldn't do anything that would compromise what we already had. What I was feeling was normal, I told myself. I was just...attributing the rising arousal I felt when I looked at him to the adrenaline surging through my body. Nothing more.

I took a few more deep breaths when the chilly night air started affecting me, given that I was basically naked, and I pushed back into the dressing room. Cinna always made sure we had something to wear if we wanted to walk around the floor after a show that was sexy but comfortable. He and Portia must spend all day in their space designing and creating these ensembles. Haymitch didn't want us to socialize too much after dances, saying was too easy for customers to get out of hand when we were out in the open, but as long as we had the eye of security, we could go out on the slower nights.

I leaned against the bar with a tired smile as Annie jumped up and a down and leaned across to hug me. If there was one thing I had learned about Annie Cresta it was that she was a hugger. And when I told her I wasn't much of a hugger, it only made her hug me more. At least, it did when I always gave in and hugged her back. "You were great!" She exclaimed, pouring me a light beer and a glass of water.

I chugged the water first, not stopping until it was completely gone. "Yeah? I was so nervous. I'm pretty sure I missed a couple spins or something," I admitted, leaving out the part where I knew I missed things because I was too busy staring at and thinking about Peeta. That was too embarrassing to tell even Annie.

"No one out there," she indicated to the customers who were watching the next dancer, "would ever be able to tell. And I didn't notice any glaring mistakes. Did you, Peeta?"

I froze mid-swallow of my beer as I felt his presence behind me. Of course, there are only two guys from security working tonight and someone has to be watching the door, so he's the one who's supposed to keep an eye on me. _And the other girls_, I hastily remind myself. Not just me. But if he's keeping an eye on me at the bar, it meant he couldn't be watching the other girls dance.

"Nothing wrong at all," he breathed, leaning near me, resting his elbows on the bar. "I thought you looked amazing up there, Katniss."

I laughed, though it came out more like a wheeze because hearing him say my name like that makes my body quake. "Thanks," I mumbled, taking another drink, knowing my warm cheeks weren't from the show. I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt his arm brush against mine. I wouldn't have thought anything of it if I weren't already buzzing in hormonal anticipation. All because of him and those stupid blue eyes that watched me and made me feel desired without even intending to. "Does the money thing get easier?" I asked Annie, willing myself to breathe deeply but being betrayed by the scent that I've grown to recognize as undeniably Peeta. I licked my lips and swear his hips move closer to mine on our side of the bar.

Annie nodded, pouring glasses of beer and setting them on a tray. "It gets less awkward," she admitted, "not sure that makes it easier or not, though. Hold on, I gotta run these."

I grab the tray from her. "I've got it. You're busy and it's my fault you're working tonight. And I won't even charge you for my services." I didn't mean it to be sexual but the way Peeta's breath hitches shoots a shock to my core. "I mean...I won't…"

"I know what you mean," she laughed, "get out of here and bring me my tray back!"

I was aware of Peeta following a few steps behind me, close enough to step in if needed, but far enough away to not look like he was following me. The men I handed the beers off to recognized me instantly as "that new girl who dances" and pulled an empty chair over to their table, insisting I stay and chat with them for a while. I stood, instead, knowing the first rule if you want to avoid being hunted is to leave yourself a clear out.

"You're a good looking girl," one of them said, eyes raking over my body. "And a good dancer."

I ducked my head, remembering the part I'm supposed to play here. "Thank you," I answered. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"Enjoyed?" Another laughed boisterously. "Hell, he more than enjoyed it. If you know what I mean."

My cheeks flushed furiously, which made them laugh harder. "Uh...um...thanks, again? I, um, I need to get this back to the bar but...yeah, thanks. Enjoy the night." I turn on my heels and all but run to the bar, totally forgetting that Peeta was only a few steps behind me and ran face first into his chest. His hands wrapped around my arms to keep me from falling.

"Woah there, no running at the pool," he joked. In a lowered voice, he asked, "Are you okay? Do I need to talk to them?"

I shake my head. "No, I just need to get this tray back to Annie. And I should probably get backstage. To...change…" I shouldn't have looked up at him as I said that. Or bit my lower lip, which was totally a nervous tic and not at all a seduction technique. At least, not to me it wasn't. Based on the deep groan that vibrated through Peeta's body, which was still flush against mine, it apparently had some effect on him. Probably the same effect that vibration had on me.

"Yeah," his voice hoarsely answered. "You should…"

"Yeah."

We stood there, just looking at each other but in a way that we never really have before. At least not mutually. It's a moment we weren't willing to break, despite knowing we should. I had to get ready for my second performance and he should have been keeping an eye on the other girls. And the patrons. This was an odd site for anyone paying attention to us, but it was as if they didn't exist in that moment. It was just us.

And just like that, we were forced back into reality. I don't remember who broke eye contact first, but whoever did was stronger than the other. I smiled softly at him as he released my arms. "I'll see you later, Peeta." I slipped away from him and headed toward the dressing room.

"Yeah. Later," he called after me. If anyone said anything to me while I prepared for my second show, I didn't hear them. I paid no attention to anyone. And when I went out and danced again, my eyes automatically found his and never left. Every hip pump and body wave was punctuated by a lip bite or an inaudible moan because all I could think of was Peeta. Despite having never done drugs, I felt high and carefree and sexual. Was this what Johanna meant? Did I really not understand and appreciate my sexuality and my body until it was exposed in this way?

Right or wrong, it was a completely unfamiliar but not unwelcomed feeling.

Annie wasn't kidding when she said the dancers make more money. I felt guilty, I hadn't worked nearly as hard as she had and here I was, sitting with twice as much cash at the end of the night. But when I tried to offer it to her, she looked at me as if I grew a second head. "You earned it."

Even trying to stay back to help her clean-up was met with what Finnick dubbed the "Annie look." I couldn't help but stifle a laugh whenever I saw it because Finnick's impression was spot on. Instead, I cleaned up my area in the back room, changing out of my tone-colored underwear and into my shorts and tanktop, sans underwear or bra because I stuffed them into my gym bag as soon as I changed and didn't really want to go digging for them at the moment.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and waved at Annie, who looked like she was almost done cleaning. I pushed the front door open and leaned against the wall. Glancing over to where I used to walk to the bus stop, I wondered if I should take tomorrow off at the gym and go home to see my mom and Prim. I hadn't seen my sister in what felt like forever. Even though she told me she understood, the guilt was overwhelming when I let myself fixate on her. At the same time, my bed just sounded heavenly, like a welcoming beacon to relax my aching body. Either way, I'd have to wait for Peeta to let him know.

I heard the door open behind me and saw Peeta saunter out, his shirt untucked and hair unruly. "Hey Katniss," he greeted, smiling at me. "Headin' my way?" It was his favorite joke since we always walked home together.

I rolled my eyes and pushed off the wall. "Let's go, Romeo." At the same time, we turned to face each other with big grins. "Aaaaaye." I laughed and bumped into his side which was a major mistake. The cool night air had done so much to calm my raging hormones, but just the touch of our bodies sent all of my nerves firing at rapid speed.

He felt it too, I was sure of it, given that he had fallen completely silent next to me. Despite being outside, it was as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the air between us. My skin was on fire and I sincerely questioned my ability to walk the entire way. Someone's hand touched the others. Fingers brushed as our steps mirrored.

"So," I started, my voice quiet.

"So," he answered. "You, uh, you really did look good. Tonight. Um, dancing, I mean."

I grinned, ducking my head. "You noticed?" I wanted to smack myself as soon as the words came out. Of course he noticed. Of course he noticed that I noticed. "Thanks. It was...it was kind of arousing."

"Arousing?" There was that tone again. The one that made my stomach turn and knees wobble.

"Exhausting," I quickly corrected myself. "You know, all those lifts and spins and stuff. Killer on my shoulders." I tried to make a joke of it, hoping to cut the tension between us because this was Peeta, and Peeta was my friend. He was my rock during the show, yes, but whatever I felt for him then was only because of the environment. And, surely, the same had to have been for him.

But then his fingers brushed my shoulders and transferred my gym bag over to his. "Better?"

"I can carry it," I protested, half hoping he'd fight me because I really was that tired and half hoping he'd put it back just to feel his fingers again.

Instead, he just looked at me and shook his head. "No, no, Katniss Everdeen. It is my job to make sure you get home safely. And if that means carrying this ridiculously full bag two more blocks, I will. What do you have in here, anyway? Bricks?"

I shrugged. "You caught me. No, dumbass. I dunno, the usual - clothes I need to wash, a pair of running shoes, my underwear, some water bottles, a granola bar or two...what?"

He had stopped moving entirely, his eyes glancing between my face and my bag. "What?"

It was then that I realized he wasn't looking at my face so much as my shorts. Because. Oh fuck. Did I really tell him what was in my bag? Had some part of me meant to? The part that wanted to jump him as soon as I got off stage, possibly. I damned the floating hormones that still ran through my body and clearly got up into my brain and disabled my filter. But he couldn't know that. I could pass it off, right? Maybe he had just thought he heard something and I could pretend I hadn't said it. "I said some water bottles, a granola bar or two."

He shook his head. "No, before that."

Shit. "A pair of running shoes."

"No."

Had I moved closer to him or had he moved closer to me? Either way, there we were again, just like at the club, standing nearly nose to nose. But this time, neither of us needed to do our job. And there were no patrons there to watch us. We were, literally, alone in the moment. Just our bodies so near I could see the shades of blue in his eyes and the hint of stubble on his chin. I felt his breathing and heard his heartbeat banging through his chest as fast as mine.

My tongue snuck out to wet my lips. Finally I felt his lips against mine as he turned me around and pushed my back up against the wall of a building. I heard the sound of my gym bag thumping on the ground as his hands held my hips and pulled me against him. His lips were determined against mine; his desire coursing through him. I nipped at his bottom lip, eliciting a growl. His lips traced over my skin, from my lips to my neck, leaving behind a coolness that burned into me. He was sloppy and wet, which I normally would find unappealing, yet knowing they were from Peeta, that he was leaving himself on me, only made my stomach tighten further. It made me want him more.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered into my ear, nipping at the lobe and causing me to moan loudly. His hands came down to my hips, gripping the fabric of my thin workout shorts. He groans when one hand comes down to cup me between my legs, no doubt feeling the heat and wetness he has caused. "Fuck, Katniss." His head rests on my shoulder, lips still suckling on whatever skin they can find.

"Peeta." I felt how much he wanted me. Whenever I rotated my hips, I could feel him again and again, faster and faster. He gasped for breath, a sound that I never knew could be so sexy. Or make me so hungry for more.

"We can't," he groaned into my ear, his leg grinding against my aching center. But he felt too good to stop. When I told him, he breathed heavily against my neck, sending goosebumps down my flesh. "Katniss, we have to stop…"

"Why?" I whimpered, my body wound so tight I thought I would burst at any second.

"Because, we're...Katniss, seriously stop, we're outside."

Oh. "Then let's go inside," I instructed, slowly pulling away from him, both of us groaning at loss of contact. I held firmly to one of his hands, though the way he was wrapped around my body, there was no way he was letting me get away from him. "Whose-?"

"Wherever's quickest," he mumbled against my skin. It took us a few pauses to end up at one of our apartment; hurried kisses and scrambling touches of skin pressed against each other continually distracted us from our goal, but the smell of fresh coniferous trees told me it was mine. I pulled him toward my bed, our hands never breaking contact.

He didn't bother to remove my shorts, running his hands up my legs and under the fabric, his fingertips slipped against my core. He trailed his fingers along the outside of my folds, teasing me. I bucked my hips, moaning for more. Needing more. "You're so wet," he marveled.

"Because of you," I panted. "I thought of you, when I was on stage. I thought of only you."

There was that groan again. The one I was beginning to think may make me come just at the sound of it. He slid his fingers all the way up, entering me with ease. My hips rocked into his hand, his heel pressing against my clit. His fingers, bigger and thicker and rougher than mine created a new sensation that filled me with fire. My heart felt as though it was floating in my chest, disconnected from any part of my body. Heat spread through all my limbs until I nearly snapped.

He pawed at my breasts through my shirt with his free hand, pinching one of my nipples through the fabric easily since I had left my bra in the bag with my panties. I reached down to cup his growing erection through his jeans. The angle was awkward but he thrust his hips against my hand, his fingers moving in the same rhythm. "Fuck, Katniss, I gotta take these off." We scrambled to get his jeans unbuttoned and off.

We sat there, me in my barely-there gym shorts and he in his boxers, and a whole new kind of tension filled us. I could see the outline of his thick cock straining through the thin fabric. I felt him before but it was almost misleading without seeing him. He seemed to be of average length but wider girth. Stocky, like him.

"Katniss-"

I wondered what it would feel like to have him inside me, how full I would be, what spot he would hit when he thrusted in and out of me. I could tell he wanted to. It was in his eyes. I wondered if it was in mine, as well. Along with nervousness and hesitation. "No," I whispered, breaking eye contact. "Not now."

He nodded in understanding, yet I couldn't help myself. I still wanted him somehow. My hand slid down under my shorts to alleviate the feeling. He let out a short, breathy sigh and took himself in his hand. I removed my shirt, exposing my breasts to him and he pulled his boxers and t-shirt off. We watched each other as we laid naked on my bed, taking ourselves over the brink. He came first with an extended grunt. Me with a short breathy whimper.

"Are you angry with me?" I asked into the darkness. He cleaned himself up afterwards, taking a wet washcloth to me as well. I changed into clean shorts and a new tank top while he recovered his boxers.

Peeta's fingers were drawing unrecognizable shapes onto my arms and he kissed my bare shoulder. "What about?"

"About not...you know."

I felt him chuckle and pull me closer to him. The warmth radiating from his chest filled me. "You weren't ready. We...we weren't ready. That's not something to be mad about." He began playing with a strand of my hair, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. "You don't, you know, regret anything...right?"

I turned around and look up at his face. His eyes were closed, but his breathing indicated that we wasn't asleep. I didn't regret it, even if it was all done in the heat of the moment, brought on by the rush of hormones and adrenaline. Even though I had never done anything like that with someone I wasn't dating, which Peeta and I definitely weren't doing. We were friends. Friends with sparks and chemistry and...something more I couldn't put my finger on. But friends, nonetheless. How was I supposed to tell him all of that when I wasn't even able to explain it to myself. I was no good with words. Never had been, really.

Instead of saying anything, I stretched up and lightly kissed the corner of his lips. They curled into a smile and he shifted into a more comfortable position. I rested my head on his chest, letting out a content sigh.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Sorry this is a day late...yesterday was super crazy. Chapter 3 will be up on Friday :)


	3. The Inferno

"Finnick, can I ask you a question?" I snuck into the gym for my daily workout earlier than normal and had been surprised to see Finnick there. But with the changes between Peeta and I, I decided he may actually be able to help me. Plus, Peeta tended to train like Atala, very military and strict that sometimes he made me want to slap him.

"Anything you want, Braids," he groaned, setting his weights down and wiping off his face.

I rolled my eyes at the ridiculous nickname that refused to die. "Why aren't you and Annie officially together? I mean, it's obvious you are."

"It's one of Haymitch's rules."

"Yeah," I answered, increasing the incline on my treadmill. "But why? Why does he care?"

Finnick shrugged. "I don't know that much about it, but I know it has something to do with what happened when Haymitch took over. He created all these really stringent rules for his employees about what they could and couldn't do both in and out of work."

I raised my eyebrows. "That sounds awful controlling."

"Not controlling so much as...I mean, he's like a...well, shit, like a dad on some level," Finnick said, struggling to find the words to describe what he meant. He was no Peeta when it came to words but Finnick had never been short himself. "He has rules set to protect us."

"And not officially dating each other protects us?" I asked with a snort. "What?"

I caught him staring at me with a strange look on his face. He smirked and shook his head, picking up weights to start his squat routine. It was the same routine I had seen Peeta do when we went to the gym together, so I assumed, like us, the bouncers had a specific regiment. I reluctantly turned my treadmill up, knowing full well that Atala may be right around the corner and would be severely disappointed in my pace.

"Is this because of Peeta?"

"Wha-what-no. What? Is...is what...is what because of Peeta?" I asked, sure that I was about to fall flat on my face from being completely caught off guard. "N-n-nothing's about...anyone. I was just...curious."

He snorted. "Sure, Katniss."

"Why would it be about Peeta?" I asked with a scowl.

"Because," he huffed, holding his squats for increments of 30 seconds. "We see how you guys are around each other."

"We're friends," I said, willing my voice to sound confident. Because we were friends. It didn't matter what was happening, we were still friends. That's it. The dating question was curiosity, not for any practical reason. We. Were. Friends.

"Okay," he said, completely not believing me.

I shook him off and focused on my workout. The television above my treadmill had some show that was supposed to distract us from our running. It was hosted by this short man with overly tanned skin and blindingly white teeth. His blue hair - yes, royal blue hair - was pulled back tightly, giving his skin a stretched look that undoubtedly added to the rumors that he had recently had surgery. Ceasar Flickerman, for all his ridiculousness, was incredibly charming and surprisingly able to keep me engaged for at least 35 minutes. Usually, anyway. Today, I couldn't get Finnick's little comment out of my head.

"Did you fall for Annie right away?"

He pulled the earbud he had in one ear out. "What?"

"Annie. You seem pretty in love. Did you guys just know when you met?"

"Not exactly," he laughed. "I don't know which of us was more annoyed with each other at first."

"She said you snuck up on her," I repeated her words to him.

He laughed again. "Well. Yeah, I guess. She snuck up on me, too. Sometimes that's how it happens. You start out as...friends."

I flipped him off which he laughed off. Maybe that's how it happened with him and Annie, but it wasn't the case with me and Peeta, no matter what my body screamed at me whenever I saw him, touched him, danced for him. _No_, I chastised myself. I wasn't dancing for him, I was dancing. He happened to be there. And always in my eyesight. And in my head.

I was a mess after my early morning workout. I checked my schedule and I had the night off. So did Peeta. Normally when we had the night off, we'd hang out with each other doing mostly nothing. Well, not nothing exactly. Since that first night, we had shared some heated kisses, though somehow kept everything else to a minimum; no matter how much we both clearly wanted more, he seemed hesitant to go any further. After my talk with Finnick and my still racing mind, I decided to take a night off. I texted Peeta to let him know I wasn't feeling up for anything tonight. He replied with a sad face, because Peeta was the king of those fucking emojicons, but said he understood.

_See you tomorrow_.

Tomorrow was Friday, which meant a busy day of work and a party afterwards. I never knew who was hosting when since I just ended up riding with Peeta or Annie, I just knew it wasn't me. So when I got home, I didn't think twice about leaving my shoes by the door or stripping down to my sports bra and panties as soon as I got inside. My tanktop and shorts landed on the floor and I told myself that I'd pick them and do the laundry later that night. I was just too exhausted to care about it at the moment. Plus, I had other things on my mind. Something about what Finnick said, about Haymitch's rules. When I was hired, I was pretty sure Haymitch included a stack of papers about rules and regulations that I didn't bother to read.

Now if only I could remember where I left them.

It took almost an hour for me to locate and look through all the paperwork Haymitch sent home with me that first day. I sat on my couch, papers scattered around me, with a cup of tea at my side.

_Code of Conduct for Victor's Village._

I scanned through the first couple rules again: be on time, zero drug policy, minimal drinking on the job, no fighting - which made me laugh since on my first day, I had to break up what was clearly not the first physical altercation between Johanna and Cashmere. Those rules weren't anything interesting, but I was certain there would be something related to what I was searching for.

I found it near the bottom of page four.

_It is recommended that employees spend their down time training, relaxing, engaging in hobbies, or interacting with fellow employees. Victor's Village works best when all employees are at their best. Romantic relationships with coworkers may lead to distraction, favoritism, or potential retribution should the relationship end. Therefore, romantic relationships between employees are strictly prohibited. If management becomes aware of any romantic relationship, both employees will be placed on probation. If the relationship continues, both employees will be terminated._

I frowned. Probation? Termination? There was absolutely no way a relationship was worth that risk in my mind. So it was just as well that Peeta and I weren't in a relationship. It almost felt selfish on Finnick and Annie's part to maintain a relationship, even a quasi-secret one, when it could cost them both their jobs.

Friday nights were too busy to spend time on the floor, so all the girls crowded around in the dressing room between dances. I was trying to stretch; my legs had been incredibly tight all day and I barely made it through my first routine. Cashmere is taping up her feet like a ballet dancer because the heels she had to wear were brand new and needed to be broken in as quickly as possible without giving her blisters. Johanna's been alternating ice and heat packs on her shoulder from all the inverts that have been introduced into her routines. And I could have sworn Lyme and two other girls were sleeping at their stations.

"Where are we going tonight?" Cashmere asked, wincing at the pressure on her feet. "Someplace with carpet?"

"Peeta's," I answered, groaning through my stretches. "No carpets."

Cashmere whined. "Then Gloss and I will be late. I'm going to force him to take me home to get my slippers."

Johanna snorted. "What a princess." Then, she reached into her bag and tossed a small bottle at Cashmere. "That'll help with the bruises."

"So will a Tracker Jacker," Lyme called from her chair. "Is Peeta making it tonight?"

I frowned. "Tracker Jacker?"

The girls explained that it was a quasi-regular tradition when the younger security boys hosted parties. There was never a set recipe, at least not one that anyone could ramble off from the top of their head. They all knew the basic list of ingredients, but the mix was apparently just "a little of this" or "a few splashes of that" or "more of thaaaat" but the boys never let anyone else help make it so no one was certain.

"It's dangerous," Cashmere said with a content sigh. "But so delicious. When it's made, we almost all end up crashing at that person's place because no one can even imagine driving home."

I bit the inside of my cheek. As much as I wanted them all to have a good time, I didn't want them staying at Peeta's apartment. I could already feel myself reacting to his presence and I still had at least two more dances to go. The party would be hard enough with everyone around, let alone with them staying all night. Finnick may have said that everyone knew about what was going on between me and Peeta, but I refused to believe it. Mostly because I knew whatever they "knew" would be more exaggerated than the truth, so it was easier to just keep our private kisses and touches between us.

"Tracker Jacker is more of a Saturday drink," Johanna answered. "Since we actually have to be functioning tomorrow. But I agree...it does sound good. We haven't had any since…"

The girls looked around at each other, trying to work out the last time. They started laughing, indicating that it had been so long that none of them could remember.

"It wasn't Fin...or Gloss and I," Cashmere said. "Annie's not a fan," she explained to me. "It makes her hallucinate or something so Finnick's not allowed to have it anymore. And I don't think Gloss remembers how to make it."

"That or they don't trust him to make it," Enobaria commented. "Lord knows that boy tells you everything."

"It's a twin thing," Cashmere said with a shrug. It had taken a long time for Cashmere and Gloss to admit they were twins, or for anyone to believe them, because they always had an unnatural sexual tension between them. And because neither of them had ever hooked up or dated anyone in their years at the club. Though they were social with other employees, they always stayed close to one another when in the group. "We should ask Peeta to make it tomorrow then. I think it's about time Braids here tried it out."

I rolled my eyes but was thankful that at least it was put off another day. If it was as potent as they said, Johanna's suggestion was for the best. Sunday had become my best sleeping day, a far change from my life back home when Sundays meant waking up at dawn and trekking out into the woods behind my house.

Peeta caught me after my final dance. My skin was on fire and when he grabbed my arm, I wanted to push him against the wall and ravage him. "Hey," he whispered into my ear.

I instinctively ground my hips against him. "Hi."

"Wanna get out of here."

"Immediately."

He laughed and kissed my cheek. "Good. I have the party tonight, so I can head out a little early. And since you're done and I take you home…I figured I could break you outta here a little early."

I grinned. "I'll allow it."

"Go get your stuff," he answered, swatting my ass. I hopped off toward the dressing room, grabbing the only things I would need for the night and next morning. I waved to Annie, who thankfully had an older, but still wiley woman named Mags helping her out behind the bar. Mags didn't talk much, but was likely to smack an obstinate customer, or employee, and kept whatever wits she had about her. I liked her, which Peeta took to teasing me about.

We walked toward his apartment building as close as possible, our hands brushing constantly but never fully connecting. We tried to make small talk, about our day, about how our night went, anything to keep us from just jumping each other on the sidewalk, which I have been wanting to do since our first night together.

"Mind if I shower?" I asked when we made it up to his place. "I didn't get a chance to at work since someone dragged me out before I could clean up."

"You could go back," he teased. "Of course you can use my shower. Just don't make it smell all girly."

I never understood Peeta's ability to treat me like we were just friends, to joke around like he had always done. He had so many faces, this Peeta Mellark,that he made it easy to want to be around him even when he confused me.

Similar to my apartment, Peeta's had two bathrooms, and the one with the shower was right off of his room. So once I finished and wrapped myself up in one of his fluffy towels, I wandered into his room and plopped down on his bed, stretching out on my back.

"Your legs look like shit."

I groaned and stretched them out above me. "Thank goodness for Cinna's body-toned cover up. I doubt anyone would pay if they saw what we really looked like." The one thing no one warned me about when I started with Effie Trinket were the bruises all over my feet, shins, thighs, sides, arms, shoulders, and back. They faded more quickly now than they used to but it seemed as though no matter how comfortable I got with a move, I still ended up looking like a leper.

"Do they hurt?" The bed shifted as he sat by my feet. I felt his fingers brush ever-so-lightly over my skin.

"Some, but not too much."

"Hmm."

I laid my head back and closed my eyes when I felt him pick up one of my feet and start rubbing the bottom of it. Peeta had given me a few shoulder massages, even when he found out how terrible my massages were in return, so I knew his hands would feel fantastic. And sure enough, as he switched between feet and slowly worked his way up my legs, I felt like I was melting into his bed. All of the soreness and tightness I had been holding in my muscles were soothed away and I could feel my eyelids getting heavy and my head start to swim.

I couldn't stop the moan that escaped my mouth when his thumbs brushed against the inside of my upper thighs. My legs fell open slightly, allowing him further access, rocking my hips toward him. I was vaguely aware of the fact that I hadn't put on any type of clothing and was completely open to him. His fingers dug a little deeper into the soft skin of my thigh, making me moan again. A charged cycle of fingers and moans between us.

"Peeta," I whispered hoarsely. His breathing was warm against my legs and I wanted his lips on mine. I pulled at his arm until he was laying above me, resting on his arms. I nestled my fingers through his curls, tugging him down to me. I whimpered into his mouth, easily opening my lips to allow his tongue access.

My towel had all but come completely open as he pulled me up flush against his bare chest. He had changed out of his work clothes but hadn't put on anything more than his boxers. That thin layer of cotton was all that stood between us and at the moment, it felt like a million miles. He kissed my exposed neck and jaw, hands clutching at whatever skin they can touch.

I reach for the top of his boxers, needing them off immediately. Every part of me was yearning for him, all the nights of building tension and desire between us, every kiss that never went any further, every fantasy of mine that left me wanting more. I needed him. And for once, I felt that he needed me too.

We barely heard the knock at his front door. "That'll be Annie and Finnick most likely," he muttered against my neck.

"They can wait," I moaned, so close to feeling all of him. "Five minutes. They can wait, Peeta."

Another knock and he completely pulled away. "They have a key. They'll just come in. Do you want them to see you like this?" When I sighed and let my head rest on the pillow he chuckled. "Besides," he continued, dipping his lips to mine. "When this happens," he kissed me, "believe me," another kiss, "I'm going to need," kiss, "much," kiss, "much" kiss "more than five minutes. Come on, get dressed. Pizza and movie night," he winked.

I stuck my tongue out at him as he rolled away and slipped on a pair of jeans from his closet. "You owe me," I warned, sliding off the bed and back into the bathroom to retrieve the clothes I left in there.

Every so often, the group would do something slightly more organized than just 'sit at each others' apartments and get drunk.' Today, it seemed, was one of those days. Annie brought over the beer Peeta bought from the bar, a few people grabbed their favorite movies from their collection, and pizza was ordered for the entire bunch. It was relaxed and fun and exactly what we all seemed to need. I sat on the floor between Peeta's legs, resting my back against his chest. Even during the Lego movie that we all pretended to hate but really loved, I couldn't ignore the constant buzz of my body when it was near his. I felt his warm breath laughing in my ear whenever I checked my phone to see _how much longer_ everyone would be there.

He did owe me, afterall.

The next morning I woke before the sun, sore in a completely different yet completely satisfying way. I craned my neck over and watched as Peeta's chest rose and fell in his sleep. He was more distracting when he slept, so peaceful and calming to the point where I wanted nothing more than to curl back up next to him and sleep the next few days away. But the incessant beeping of my cell phone indicating that it was about to die because it hadn't been charged, was preventing that. I slipped out of bed searched for my charger when it hit me. I didn't bring a bag home from work. Which meant I didn't have my charger. And since I had what everyone referred to as "the oldest phone known to man" Peeta's wouldn't help. It wasn't a huge deal, since it wasn't like I was going anywhere for the rest of the day where someone wouldn't be around whose phone I could use. But that meant completely relying on someone else which I was not okay with.

I looked at the clock. Peeta was normally an early riser, but I was pretty sure he was going to be out for a while based on how late we ended up staying up last night. I could sneak back over to the club, grab my phone charger, and be back before he woke up. It would give me peace of mind to have my phone charged up, just in case, anyway.

The cool morning air gave me time to think. After everyone left, Peeta made good on his promise. It hadn't taken long for him to strip me from my clothes and lay me down on his bed. He kissed down my body, leaving a trail of flames and goosebumps behind. His tongue swirled around my nipples, making me whimper loudly.

It was when he kissed his way down my abdomen, reaching my thighs and teasing where I wanted him most. I looked down at him and even though his mouth was hidden from me, I knew he was smirking. With a broad, flat tongue he made heavy strokes over my center, licking me from bottom to top. He flicked his tongue across my clit, making me jump further against his face. One arm laid across my hips, keeping me still, while the other slid down to my pussy. As his tongue traced circles and wrote words against my clit, he slid a finger inside me, curling up against my walls. His arm muscle flexed as my hips tried to thrash completely off the bed. I was vaguely aware of my screaming his name out in conjunction with a few "fucks" as heat spread through my appendices. My toes curled and my thighs clenched as I came hard against his mouth.

I shouldn't have been thinking about that because now I was half-way to work and my panties were completely soaked. I wondered if I could wake Peeta up when I got back for round two. Or was it three? He wouldn't mind, I figured, not if last night was any indication.

Because after I came back down, his lips were on mine again. I could taste my tangy arousal on his lips and tongue and I wanted more. I hooked my leg around his hip and rolled him onto his back. "Look at you," he said, impressed. He ran his hands up and down my thighs. "Nice."

"Shut up," I breathed, leaning down to kiss him. Our hips both rose in unison as he shimmied out of his boxers. I took his hard cock in my hand and pumped him a few times, hovering just over the tip. "Condom," I instructed.

As soon as he rolled one on, I sunk down onto him, letting out the most pent-up groan in my life. I was almost ashamed to admit to worrying about if he would fit and had decided in that moment to just go for it rather than taking the slow-and-steady approach. His hips rocked slowly into me as I adjusted to his girth and focused on the breathy moans. Using his chest for balance, I began to pump up and down on his cock. His hands held onto me, his thumb pressing onto my clit. My orgasm snuck up on me, muscles suddenly clenching around him.

He wasted no time in flipping me back over to my back, lifting a leg over his shoulder. "Yeah?" He asked, pressing lightly on my sensitive clit. I could only nod - my body still felt like a puddle - but it was enough for him. He thrusted into me, fast and hard. I tried to keep up, but eventually gave into his movements. He became more erratic and I knew he was close. I reached up to pull his lips to mine. He grunted against my skin and I could feel him pulse inside me. He collapsed against me, our limbs a sweaty tangle. Our hearts were both racing and I felt like I just had a marathon session at the gym.

I leaned my head against the back door of the club and sighed. I really needed to learn to keep my imagination in check because the urge to relieve the re-rising tension in my body was overpowering. And there was no way that would be appropriate at work, no matter how lenient Haymitch may have been with other rules. Plus, it was totally mortifying to even imagine, so I had to get in, get out, and get back to Peeta ASAP. Using the key code we were assigned for the door, I slipped into the dressing room and found my charger hanging out of my gym bag.

Quick and easy. Now back to Peeta.

"Morning, Haymitch."

"Morning, Boggs. What do you have for me today?"

I froze in the hallway, pressing myself against the wall, trying to figure out who Haymitch could be talking to this early in the morning.

"More of the usual, I'm afraid. Nothing out of the ordinary, though, if there was any kind of silver lining."

Haymitch snorted. "Silver lining, my ass. When will these fuckers learn that I won't back down from them?"

"They won't, until it shuts down, to be honest. They still think this is the ultimate house of the ill repute. All we can do is ride it out."

"Anything for Katniss?"

My ears perked up and I slid along the wall closer to Haymitch's office. I peaked inside and saw Haymitch sitting at his desk across from an older man with close-cropped grey hair who I assumed was Boggs. He was sitting completely straight up in the chair, opposite of my boss, who was slumped over in his chair, undoubtedly nursing a hangover. I watched as Boggs reached into his mail bag and handed over a small stack of letters.

Haymitch flipped through them and shook his head. "How did they even figure out she was here? I swear, they have a mole or some shit like that."

Boggs shrugged. "Probably. Luckily, nothing she's gotten sent to her apartment has raised any concerns. Just a few that the front desk caught before she came to pick them up. It looked like it was just from one person in that case."

Haymitch sucked in his cheeks. "One is one too many. Keep an eye on that. What about the rest? Anyone getting any rise in numbers?"

I didn't listen to the rest of the conversation. I ran as quickly as I could toward the back door and toward Peeta's apartment. I stared at the front desk in his building, wondering how many letters had been confiscated for him. Probably none, no one ever seemed offended by security guards. He wasn't the one doing anything...ill refuted. I thought I might be sick and all I wanted to do was curl back up in his arms and pretend none of this ever happened. I raced back upstairs and into his room.

He was sitting up in bed when I got back. "Hey," he said, his voice groggy. "Where were you?"

I held up my phone charger and climbed into bed with him. "I left it at work. You okay?" I brushed some of the hair off his forehead, exposing the furrowed lines he got when he was stressed. "What's wrong?"

He grabbed my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist. "I was just...I didn't know where you went. But you're back?"

I smiled. "Yeah. I'm back. My phone died, that's all." We laid back down and I rested my head against his chest. His fingers soothingly ran over my shoulder. "Peeta...about last night…"

"It was amazing."

"Yeah. No, it really was. I just...why? I mean, you seemed to pull away all the time before but last night was different. Obviously." I laughed a little, hoping to ease the tension between us but it came out forced and unnatural.

He was quiet for a few minutes, taking deep breaths. "I know what it's like for you guys, when you're at work. And then you add alcohol into it and everything gets out of control. I've been there and I get it. I don't blame any of you girls for acting out those urges or any of us who watch you all the time and can't imagine anyone else putting their hands on you. I just wanted to be sure, I guess. That you wanted me and it wasn't just...second hand pole libido or something."

I chewed on my bottom lip, feeling guilty that he was so able to know what was happening. Granted, part of me felt better knowing it wasn't just me but I couldn't reconcile the fact that someone, or someones, had done this to him in the past. "I'm not like that," I answered quietly, not sure if I totally believed it myself.

Peeta chuckled. "You are, Katniss. We all are really. You can't work where we work and relax how we relax without that shit coming up between people. But I didn't want to just be a convenience factor to you because we live near each other."

"That was never the case," I said, snorting lightly. I looked up into his eyes, still rimmed-red from sleep.

"It'd be okay if it was," he answered. "I mean, Finnick's practically married, Gloss is...Gloss, and I highly doubt you're into much older men like Brutus or Woolf or Blight. So I'm kind of all that's left. It's not like I have much competition here."

I had heard that voice from him before, when he talked about why he never wanted to go to back to District 12. It wasn't pity, but a sense of self-knowledge. As if he really believed he would ever be someone's last choice for something, That he wasn't good enough for what he deserved or wanted. I leaned up and kissed him, threading my fingers through his unruly hair, ignoring the morning breath I'm sure we both had. "You don't have much competition anywhere, Peeta Mellark."

Although we avoided excessive contact at work, it didn't take long for everyone to figure out that Peeta and I were together. As together as two co-workers could be, at least. Enobaria was a complete bitch for a few days, probably because she finally realized once and for all that she lost her own hook up buddy. I should have seen it coming when Johanna explained it, given how Enobaria had been all over him when I first started working. And I suppose I should have been upset that I had to hear about it from Jo instead of Peeta, but to be honest, I was more than happy to never have Peeta tell me about the girls he had slept with. Staying blissfully ignorant was easier that way.

Somehow, Prim figured out that I was seeing someone and we ended up gossiping like old friends late into the night many times. She even convinced me to take a selfie with him so she could properly approve of us. I had to use his phone to do it and I'm pretty sure that was still his background picture.

"You sure you don't want to come out for the holiday? I'll buy you a ticket, Primmy." I was leaning against the window talking to my sister, trying to convince her to come out for our employee Christmas dinner. Our mom was working a 12+ hour shift, which is why I wasn't going home for it. "I don't want you to be alone. It's Christmas."

Prim laughed. "Katniss, I won't be alone. Hazelle all but insisted I spend the day with them. They're kind of family."

"Yes but I am family, you nerd," I answered. Hazelle Hawthorne was our neighbor and the mother of Prim's closest friend, Rory. And while I was glad my sister wouldn't be alone, I was a little hurt that she didn't want to come out to see me. "It's just been so long since I've seen you, Duck."

"You already said you'd be working most of the weekend anyway, so I wouldn't get to see much of you if I came to visit."

"More than if you stay there," I said quietly, playing with the edge of my braid. "I just miss you."

"I miss you too, Katniss. But we'll see each other soon, when we can actually spend time with each other. Go have fun and I expect to hear what that new fella of yours got you."

"Merry Christmas, Prim."

"Merry Christmas, Katniss."

I hung up my phone and tossed it onto my couch. I knew it would be a bit of a long shot to get my sister to come out for the holiday, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't bum me out that she was staying in 12. If I didn't have to work that weekend, including Christmas Eve and Christmas itself, I would be on the first bus back to her. As it was, I did have to work and we had our employee Christmas dinner that Sunday. Better than nothing, I supposed.

I heard a loud truck outside my window and saw that it was the delivery company that was sending me Peeta's Christmas present. I took the others' advice about ordering gifts online rather than trying to find time to go to the shops. I grabbed my keys and hustled down the stairs, eager to break into the box as soon as possible. I was proud of myself for picking out something I thought he'd enjoy that he wouldn't necessarily have thought to get for himself.

I stopped short on the steps when I saw the delivery man step up to the front desk and greet the man I recognized from Haymitch's office a few weeks ago. Boggs, I think his name was. They chatted for a few minutes and after the delivery man dropped off a couple packages, then Boggs handed the front desk associate a stack of mail.

"Katniss Everdeen. 402," he said in a quiet, controlled voice. With that, he turned on his feet with military precision and headed out the door.

I waited a few minutes before taking the rest of the stairs. "Hi, Rue," I greeted the girl at the desk. "I think I'm supposed to have a package here? I heard the truck and…"

Rue smiled at me. "Yeah, Katniss! Let me just check it in and get the paperwork for you to sign for it."

"And, uh, Rue," I continued, taking a deep breath. "My mail. All of it."

Her smile faltered for a second but she nodded. "Um. S-s-sure. Sure, Katniss."

I scanned through the small stack of mostly junk mail she handed me. "This is all of it?" I stared pointedly at her, trying to be as confident as possible, even though I kind of felt like throwing up. She nodded and I thanked her, signing the form saying I was picking up the package delivered to me and ran up the stairs as fast as possible. I slid to the floor against the door inside my apartment and tore open the only envelope addressed to me, rather than 'occupant.'

_Miss Everdeen._

_Any girl who goes to such lengths to provide for her family wouldn't be interested in doing anything that might harm that family. Her mother. Her sister. Their future. Consider this, Miss Everdeen, and consider it well. Your secret life at that vulgar business cannot stay a secret forever. Eventually they will find out what you really are._

_Regards_

A slew of white rose petals fell from the inside of the envelope and a shiver ran through my body. The letter, though not directly threatening, made me feel vulnerable. Whoever this person was knew what I did, where I lived, that I had a family I was providing for. I tried to remember what Haymitch told me that first day, that normally it was just nutjobs who were trying to scare us but couldn't actually do anything. I kept repeating that as I stuffed the letter and all the rose petals back into the envelope and threw it into a drawer in my kitchen.

They couldn't actually do anything.

Right?

The months passed quickly, and before I knew it, it was spring. I don't know who gave the 'party committee' access to my apartment - though I highly suspected Peeta had something to do with it - but at some point during the day, they came in and redecorated just for my birthday. Even though it was a Wednesday, and Thursday mornings were usually a brutal day with Atala. It was the first time anyone other than just Prim had acknowledged my birthday without me having to mention it beforehand. Which I rarely did anyway.

"How did you guys know?" I asked, in total surprise when I saw everyone from work standing under the _Happy Birthday_ banner in my apartment. It was clearly not brand new, but that didn't matter to me.

Johanna rolled her eyes. "Oh, Brainless. I snuck into Haymitch's office and looked through your application when you got hired. Now, let's get the birthday girl a birthday drink!" And just like that, we were all celebrating in our usual manner.

People I rarely talked to even came up to wish me a happy birthday, giving me the perfect excuse to ask a few of them about the place. And those letters. I had been getting more and more, each increasing in private information about me and my family, each making me more and more nervous. The one I got today was the worst. Short and to the point.

_Happy birthday, Miss Everdeen_.

By the end of the night I was flanked on the couch by the only five people left, Peeta on one side of me and Johanna on the other, Annie and Finnick on the floor by my feet. "Having fun, Braids?" Finnick asked, flicking my calf with his fingers.

I kicked at him. "I am, Finny ol'boy. Thank you."

"It's the least we could do," he answered with a wink. "Unless, you maybe want an extra special present." This time it was Annie and Peeta who kicked him.

"It has been a good birthday though, Katniss?" Annie asked with sincerity. "We weren't sure if you'd like this or if you'd rather spend it by yourself. Or...kind of by yourself," she added with a grin.

I curled in closer to Peeta. "I spent almost all my birthdays by myself so this has been nice," I confessed. "Do you guys do this for everyone's birthdays?"

"Most," Johanna answered, laying back and resting her legs across both mine and Peeta's laps. "Sometimes we hang out at the club if they want to do something more club-like. But more often than not it's either a small group at someone's apartment or nothing."

"You don't ever go out?" I asked. It was a question I had never thought to ask before. We, as a group, as couples, as individuals, never went out in public. For any reason. I knew that but never really considered it before. "Ever?"

The other four looked at each other. "Nope," Annie answered. "We've always stayed in, I guess."

"It's safer that way," Peeta added. "At least, that's what Enobaria told me."

"Blight said the same thing," Finnick agreed. "Something about not trusting the locals to keep their hands to themselves around you ladies."

"Or their short-sighted ignorance about what we do." I stared at Annie. I had never heard her get so worked up about something before. "What? That's the bigger problem than the grabby idiots we deal with every night anyway."

"It's stupid as fuck is what it is," Johanna piped up, a little louder than usual. "Those fuckers think they know what we do and think that we're such fucking sluts or something because we dance on a pole and take our clothes off. I mean. Fuck, most of us don't even take all our clothes off. But fuck them if they realize that. They still think it's the old fucking place."

"Jo," Peeta said in a firm voice, squeezing her feet. "Calm down."

"No," she shot back. "No, Peeta, fuck that. We're being blamed and attacked for what people twenty-some fucking years ago did. These idiots don't get that Haymitch shut all that shit down as soon as he took over."

"What did he shut down?" I asked in a quiet voice. This was the first I heard about the club before Haymitch and was genuinely curious. Especially if that was why I was getting creepy letters. "What did he change?"

Finnick and Johanna shared a look and what can only be described as a telepathic conversation before Finnick let out a heavy sigh. "_Victor's Village_ has always been a dancing club. But before Haymitch took over it was slightly less...respectable. The girls acted more as prostitutes than dancers; it was just an acceptable part of their job."

"Seriously?" I asked, looking between them for confirmation. "But…"

"It was different back then," Finnick said with a shrug. "But Haymitch...I don't know how exactly he took control of the place, but that was the first thing he changed. Anything illegal or degrading to any employee was cut. He threw out the entire old staff and started fresh."

"It took a while for people to realize that the girls were just dancing and not going to sleep with them," Annie said. "But once they did, the place ran so much smoother."

"Except apparently not everyone got the memo. Some fucking group of 'moral activists'-"

"Citizens of Snow," Finnick provided.

"Right," Johanna affirmed, "Citizens of fucking Snow" - they decided that they knew better. That they, who supposedly had never been inside _Victor's Village_ at any point, knew we were really just being the same sluts and whores as before, but we were just tricking people by calling it something different."

I could feel Peeta's hold around me tighten as I leaned further against him. It seemed so ridiculous, that anyone could have such hatred for what we were doing. Especially when, as Johanna pointed out, no one actually got naked. Sure, some boobs were flashed by the bravest of us, but in reality no one really saw more than they did at a beach. And wasn't it in the rule book about not to fraternize with customers in an inappropriate way? The private booths were guarded at all times and all of us were told where the emergency button was located in case things got out of hand. Haymitch safeguarded the entire place for us to prevent that sort of thing from happening. "That's stupid," I muttered.

"Such is life," Finnick said, draining his bottle. "It was just easier, initially, to avoid them at all costs by not going out. Now it's just more fun hanging out with ourselves. We all have more in common with each other than we do any outsider."

And we did, as evident by everyone staying at my apartment until the wee hours of the night talking about anything and everything. It was easy, talking and listening to them talk about their lives before _Victor's Village_. All five of us, and from the sounds of it everyone, came from rough backgrounds. Johanna and Peeta were estranged from their parents and siblings, while both Finnick and Annie never felt like they belonged in their homes. I heard stories about the others, what brought everyone to the club and this life, and why they stayed. The more alcohol we drank, the more they shared.

"It's more than just a job to us," Annie said, her head resting in Finnick's lap. He was tying and untying knots in her hair to keep his hands busy. "This is the first place we all feel like we belong."

Looking around me, I finally start to accept it for myself.

Peeta and I skipped the work party one Saturday night. I had just recently began doing inverts in my routine, which apparently turned him on more than usual. It was for the best, really, because as soon as we got to my apartment, he had me pinned against the wall with his hand down my shorts, making me beg for my release. His cock was rock hard against my thigh but he refused to let me return the favor. After he made me come, we fumbled our way to my bed, losing every stitch of clothing along the way. He turned me onto all fours near the edge of the bed and slid all the way into me from behind. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of my hips and I arched my back against him.

This was new for me, but I heard it was supposed to be good. Hearing is believing because between the angle of his cock and his fingers, I came again, collapsing down against the bed. He didn't stop, the altered position giving him deeper access. The bed rocked and bucked against the wall, surely leaving indents that I'd have to take care of. I moaned into the blankets that I had been fisting. Peeta rarely got this intense during sex, which made it all the more better when he did. He pulled out when he got close and it took every ounce of strength in my body to turn to face him and accept his cock on my mouth.

I held onto his thighs and took in as much of his length as I could, rolling my tongue along the shaft and head. He threw his head back, his face clenched tight and he came with a grunt, fingers tangled into my hair.

"Where are you going?" I whined, holding my hand out for him as he rolled out of bed a few hours later.

"Your bed squeaks."

"So?"

"It annoys me," he answered with a grin. "And...probably your neighbors, too. Though that may be more of your screaming than anything else."

I threw a pillow at him. At least, I would have if I wasn't still a limp pile of limb and sweat. "Fix it later."

"It'll take like two seconds, Katniss. Any idea where Plutarch left all the tools?"

I had forgotten that, after buying and arranging all the furniture for my apartment, Plutarch made sure I had just about every "emergency" kit known to man. Fire extinguisher, candles in case the power blew, light bulbs, sewing kit, tool kit, extension cords, you name it, he provided it. "Probably in a drawer or something," I answered, flopping back onto the bed. I lost the battle, Peeta was already out the bedroom door by then so I figured I might as well enjoy the view. What could I say, I was an ass girl.

I watched as he opened just about every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen, searching under piles of instruction manuals and coupon books and bills that I kept just in case I ever needed to dispute anything - a lesson learned the hard way when I was younger and we ended up having to pay our electric bill twice in one month - all in search of that ridiculous tool kit.

"Hey, Katniss?" He called from the kitchen.

"Yeah?" I craned my neck, trying to figure out where he was in case he needed help.

Luckily for me, he walked back into the room with a handful of envelopes. "What are these?" He sat next to me on the bed and handed them to me. Unsolicited mail. Weeks of it. Months of it. All, presumably, from the same person since each letter was written in the same fancy handwriting and contained white rose petals.

I shrugged. "Letters I got."

He shook his head. "Katniss...you're supposed to turn these over to Haymitch. He can have the mailman be on the lookout for stuff like this so you don't ever get it. Or read it. Have you read all of these?"

I nodded.

Peeta ran his hand through his hair, a sure sign of his frustration. "There's a reason Haymitch wanted to see these. I turned mine over right away."

"You got some, too?" I asked, surprised he never mentioned it. "When? Did you read any?"

"When I first moved into my building." He closed his eyes for a moment and chuckled. "I read one, before I really knew what I was doing. It was stupid - some idiot thought telling my mother where I was working was going to scare me out of it."

"That's what mine said," I admitted. "At least, the first one did. But the rest...Peeta, it's like whoever this is knows about me. More than just where I work or live, they…" I lowered my voice. "They know Prim's name. Where I'm from. What's wrong with my mom. They know everything."

"That's why you tell Haymitch," Peeta sighed. "You gotta let him help you. He knows what to do."

I shook my head. There was no way Haymitch would know what to do in this case. He wouldn't even know who these were from - who to go after. And ignoring the problem was clearly not helping. I had been ignoring the letters since the beginning but that hadn't stopped whoever was sending them from finding out more about me and my family.

Peeta took the letters back from me and set them on the table next to the bed. "Why won't you let him help you? He's family, Katniss."

"No he's not," I answered quietly, thinking back to the threats, to the promises to expose my secret. Peeta's mother may not have cared where he was working but mine would. The Everdeens had enough rumors swirling around without adding fuel to the fire. Prim was almost out of school, she only had a little over a month and she'd be free from that world. That was all I cared about. My mother...sure my mother wouldn't appreciate it but she was an adult, she could handle it. Prim needed my protection. "They are. Prim, my mom. They're my family."

"So are we," he said. "Everyone at _Victor's Village_. We're all family, we're all each other has and we have to stick together on stuff like this."

"They may be your family but they aren't mine. I have a family of my own." The words left my mouth before I knew what I was saying. I couldn't stop the flow that was coming out of me; fueled by fear and distrust and who knew what else. "I can't help that your family disowned you, Peeta. But mine didn't. Mine loves me and I love them and I have to protect them. They're my blood, not just my co-workers."

I felt him staring at me. I felt him struggle to find the words - Peeta, who never struggled to find the words. I felt everything he was feeling radiate off his body. I felt the bed shift first, then the air in the room as he quietly got dressed and walked out. Before closing the front door, I heard him.

"Family isn't just about blood."

The door shut and I felt the first teardrop fall. I know what I have to do. It's what I've been doing this entire time, or what I should have been doing before I lost all sense of myself in this world. I came out here for one purpose - to provide for my sister. I had enough saved up to help her pay for her first couple years of school at her top choice. That's what she deserved. And that's what I would give to her. Because she was my family. My real family.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Hopefully this chapter is more to everyone's liking! One more after this and that's it for this story! Thanks again to everyone who helped me through it :)


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